Primal Give, Primal Take
by ZuzuPetalsInkBlot
Summary: Michael/Lorca Taking place after season one ends, so totally up in the air. Mostly writing this for fun, playing with the Voq-Ash fan theory. Extremely rated M, enjoy!
1. PART ONE: Fragmented Peace

Primal Give, Primal Take

By Zuzu Petal

AN: yes, another one with my newest favorite streaming service pairing. Have we come up with a name for them yet? Not sure when this fic would be taking place, mostly writing it for fun.

ALSO! Big thank you to everyone who has left reviews for my stories featuring this specific pair, I love you and you're all amazing!

PART ONE

Fragmented Peace

The catalyst had been Lt. Ash Tyler. The day, Michael cannot remember now. The moment? Seeing her captain's eyes reflect her own misery. The decision... purely **emotional**. Logic had taken more than a backseat as of late for Michael Burnham; it had been forced into an airlock with the threat of termination should it even attempt to try to worm it's way back into her psyche.

The place: her captain's quarters. There had been pain, physical and emotional. There had been regret before, during and after from both parties. But there had been connection, a link had been formed, a bond unbroken and unspoken.

And it had been Michael who had started it all.

It had begun with Ash's betrayal and disappearance with the female Klingon, L'Rell. He had been a plant, a sleeper agent, both Lt. Ash Tyler and Voq the Klingon, the Torchbearer, were one and the same.

T'Kuvma's heir had been revealed.

It had all happened so fast.

Once the Discovery had limped her way back to normal space, the captain further broken by his behavior to try and take his ship and crew to a time and place and reality where the Buran wasn't destroyed haunted him even further. But he had pulled them out, he had gotten them to safety. But he had seen what he could've become, his other self split and spliced in another dimension.

Michael had to admit, meeting your double in an alternate dimension and world would be shocking and disquieting for anyone. But if Captain Lorca of this... _prime_ universe and not this queer mirrored version of itself believed he was a man without a chance of redemption, his mind was surely changed upon meeting his alternate.

Captain Lorca had seen first hand what he _could_ become. And that had made more of a difference than anyone realized. But it was disturbing to say the least.

Yes, they had escaped. They had run away with their tail between their legs. Michael saw no shame in it; she had little time to feel shame for running away from a fight. No, instead, she felt disgusted. She had taken the enemy into her heart, wrapped them in a blanket and gave them love she hadn't known she was capable of.

And for Captain Lorca he had allowed the fox into the coop, the wolf into the field of helpless little white sheep. He had practically cut the throats of his flock and left them for the beast.

The night, again, was unknown to Michael now. The bridge had been mute except for the passing of information here and there. Nobody wanted to speak, no one wanted to tease or joke or make any kind of light. There was no point. Not with what had happened.

Each crewman, no matter how high or low on the totem poll, looked at each other now with distrust. Who could they rely on now when one of their own had so easily turned on them?

The looks the captain and Michael shared were the same. Hollow eyes and empty stares. It was a queer sort of comfort. But neither expected it to drive them into each other's arms.

Michael appeared before his door, uncaring if anyone saw her. She pressed the comm button and waited. It slid open with a muted hiss she paid no attention to and she entered.

Her captain was reclining on a sofa, fresh glass of whiskey on the table. He didn't look surprised to see her, he looked as defeated she felt. He offered her a drink but she refused and remained standing.

The captain inspected Michael with his eyes slowly, she looked disheveled. Her hair unwashed, her uniform neglected.

Why was she here? God, he couldn't think straight with those sad girlish eyes blinking slowly, in and out of focus. He wanted to suffer in his pain, he was used to that. What he wasn't used to doing was sharing his pain. He would appear weak and broken.

"Come to cast blame? I've had my share for today." He said when she still hadn't spoke. The silence was beginning to gnaw at him.

"I don't know why I'm here." She admitted, lowering her eyes.

"Then go. I don't have time for shy introverts crying over their boyfriends." He said coldly, he rose and refilled his glass.

Michael felt the bite in his tone, and she allowed the venom to fuel her own fire.

" _You_ let him on the ship." She accused, pointedly.

"I thought you didn't know why you were here." He replied, downing another glass, but his eyes told her he was very sober.

Michael took a brave step forward but they were still feet apart, she swallowed.

"I still don't. I... I'm angry." She said. "I'm hurt. I feel..."

" **Used**?" He clarified for her and she nodded. "Get used to it. That's what Starfleet is all about, kiddo."

Michael wiped her face with her palms.

"Shut up." She backed away from him and he began to approach her, she didn't know where he had put his glass.

"Stop pretending the Federation is this perfect utopia where everyone is friends and there's no blood feuds or war," he said, in a mockingly chivalrous tone that highlighted his natural accent, punctuated with each passing word. "Stop pretending you **didn't** want to see the truth of who or what Ash was just as badly as I didn't. I had the facts, I had punched a dozen holes in his story... but I still didn't let **myself** see it."

Michael didn't realize she was backed against a bulkhead, he was towering over her. He wasn't an extremely tall man but she was no match for his height.

"Why are you here, Michael?" Lorca asked again, aware of the intimacy of their personal space, but unwilling to give into it like he had wanted to. He wondered if Ash and Michael had gone that far yet? He wasn't stupid, his threat hadn't worked. But that's because it was all part of Voq's plan, not Ash.

Voq's plan wasn't original but it worked: make your enemy fall in love with you, seduce them, use them, betray them... the mind-fuck of this age old revenge path was not lost on Lorca.

"I don't know why." Michael said again, lowering her gaze to his lips, his chin, back to his eyes. Her eyes begging for him to give her answers, to sooth her, to help her realize something she couldn't understand.

Lorca admired her naivete in a way. He remembers being that young and hopeful. He also remembers what fresh heartbreak felt like, how easily the wound became infected and twisted; turning to black and leaving a suffocating feeling of uncertainty.

"I told you, I don't have time for this." He said and as she tried to squirm away into the bulkhead, as if a hidden door would appear behind her, he brought a hand to the side of her neck. He didn't squeeze, in fact there was very little pressure, only the weight of his hand against her. She froze, unable to think or calculate what to do next.

 _No, no, this is comfort... or intimidation, he's not-_

"You miss him," Lorca began, reading her thoughts. "I understand. But I can't give you what you need."

"What do you think I need?" Michael asked, she found herself shivering at his touch, the way his rough fingers felt against her soft skin, the way he didn't feel like Ash... that most of all.

"You want to forget him entirely," Said Lorca. "You want to _cleanse_ yourself of him. But that never works."

Michael felt like a snake that was being charmed, his eyes danced over her face as did hers to him. His hand slid down to her waist and his arm wrapped around her like thick rope. She gasped as he drew her closer.

 _What are you doing?_ He warred with himself, but he couldn't stop. Maybe he could make her forget, make them both forget...

The feel of his sturdy body against her own, again so unlike Ash, yet definitely male, caused a sudden jolt of adrenaline to canter throughout her smaller frame.

"You can't forget forever," Lorca whispered against her cheek, his lips brushing against her skin ever so slightly. Her fingers slowly made a path up his chest, pulling on the zipper to his uniform urgently, he let her.

Human touch, physical comfort when she felt so hollow, eased into her marrow and pores like a warm bath. But she didn't know what to do or what she wanted... perhaps, _he_ could show her?

"Then what can you do?" She asked him in a quivering voice, her hands running down the length of his chest. Michael didn't know how to touch him or where... she knew she had to though.

"I can make you forget for a little while." He promised.

Michael let him kiss her, she let him shove her into the bulkhead and be as rough or as gentle as he liked. She was giving it to _him_ and not Ash or Voq. Lorca wasn't lying to her, he had kept things from her, but he had never lied to her. He had insisted on keeping her safe, putting her security above all others.

Why? There had to be a reason.

The differences between the two men were quickly mounting: Ash was gentle and soft, patient and understanding.

Lorca was hard, demanding and far more explorative. He knew what he liked, he knew what he wanted, more importantly: he knew what to give Michael. She was relinquishing control, she was giving up her logic for emotional release. And the temperamental captain quickly learned just how little Michael and Ash had explored one another.

And Lorca wouldn't lie, he felt a swell of pride with gasp and moan she released; they all sounded like she was making them for the first time. He wondered how much or how little she knew of her own body.

 _I'll probably be the first,_ he thought and his lust quickly darkened and began to grow like a wildfire out of his control. Smouldering and torrid, he was burning from the inside out, and he was going to take her with him into the inferno.

The captain kissed his subordinate officer hard and almost cruelly against the bulkhead, running his hands over her body, squeezing her ass and lifting her legs around his waist as he took what he wanted and she allowed him this. Little did she know he was only doing so to keep her mind from wandering to Ash... though he knew it was inevitable that her overactive brain would begin to compare the two men.

Making notes: pros and cons. Likes and dislikes... better or worse?

 _Good, I promised to make her forget him for a little while,_ he thought.

Lorca released Burnham and stepped back a foot from her. She was breathing heavily, her hands outstretched awkwardly as if reaching for him.

"Take off your clothes." He ordered and Michael's face burned with embarrassment. He didn't order her again but he waited, seating himself back on the couch to watch her in a wicked sort of way.

"Wouldn't you... derive more pleasure from undressing me?" She asked him and he chuckled and shook his head before a serious look passed over his features, the same look he had when he was giving orders on the bridge that could mean life or death for the whole ship.

"Michael?"

"Yes?"

"Take off your fucking clothes."

The sudden change of his language jolted Michael in a sensual way she had not expected. He was always the type of man to take charge in any situation, but she had also never envisioned him in this way before. Not until he cornered her, not until he touched her and offered to relieve her of some of her burden.

Licking her lips nervously she began with her boots, moving on to her jacket. The pants came next but she seemed unsure of whether she was willing to expose her genitals first by removing her underwear or her breasts.

Both, despite stigmas being stamped out over time, still conjured feelings of shame that were so primal it was hard for anyone to ignore the nagging feeling of wanting to cover one's self.

Especially since... well, she didn't really know her captain all that well. He was a man, appraising her body shamefully the more she revealed. And moreover no one had ever seen her naked before.

And she... enjoyed it. Michael liked the way his eyes moved up and down her body, openly enjoying her shyness, he didn't care. She realized he didn't care what her body looked like, he just wanted to see it. The fact it was turning him on, despite how awkward she must appear, thrilled her.

Captain Lorca struck her as a man who wouldn't have a problem finding a lover. But he wanted her. _Her_ , of all people. Practically inexperienced, mutineer, girlfriend of a spy and traitor. He wanted her... all of her.

Why?

Michael made the decision to remove her shirt but suddenly he held up his hand.

"Stop." She was confused and looked around the room dumbly. "Come here." He said, gesturing with his index finger in a come-hither motion, for some reason the action sent another tingle through her body.

As she approached he parted his thighs and leaned foward, she tried to avoid looking at the obviously large bulge now residing there.

Michael shivered as he ran his fingertips up her bare legs before settling on the bands of her underwear. She gripped his shoulders in fear she might lose her balance. He smirked up at her before pressing his mouth to her exposed hip, the tiniest bit of skin revealed, his mouth soaking up the sweet taste of her; his breath tickling her stomach and causing it to clench as pulse after pulse of singular pleasure caressed it.

Lorca moved his mouth over her belly button which he uncovered, his tongue traveled down to her navel where her pubic mound was still covered by her dark blue panties. She watched him with eager eyes. She was trembling. He put a hand between her knees and with a gentle but firm push she moved them a few inches apart. He stroked the skin on the side of her knee and the back of it up and down softly, sending goose-bumps to make their home across her body.

Michael gripped his shoulders harder when each passing stroke of his fingers grew closer and closer to her wet opening. She felt a pang of derision by how wet she had become, embarrassed by it. But when his fingertips made first contact with her hot entrance she seemed to forget for a moment.

"Oh." She whispered and he pressed more firmly, keeping his fingers outside of her panties, teasing her relentlessly.

Lorca continued pressing kisses to her stomach and hips as his fingers danced along with her soaking slit. He groaned against the skin of her belly at how wet she was for him. He wanted to send a deep space transmission to Ash if he ever found him, _did_ _ **you**_ _ever make_ _ **her**_ _this wet you fucking traitor?_

Suddenly, upon Ash entering his mind, Lorca reared up, taking Michael by surprise and he pressed his mouth hard against her own. She gripped his forearms unsure of where else to touch him but he swept her up in his arms and carried her to his bed.

Michael's heart pounded fiercely in her chest. His mood had suddenly changed again. Planting her firmly on her back he didn't give her time to press her legs together, instead he seated himself between them, tearing her panties off in one fluid motion.

"Captain-"

"Hold still." He ordered. She had no choice but to obey him.

 _I'll stop if she wants, but god I hope she doesn't ask me to stop,_ he thought.

Upon seeing Michael lying there in his bed, legs spread with his wider waist between them, her supple cunt glistening, prone and afraid but willing... he nearly came right there.

Leaning over her, boxing her in with his aggressive body language, his lips hovered over her own.

"Did he ever eat you out?" He asked crudely and Michael's sweet brow furrowed and he had his answer.

"I... I don't know-"

"That's fine. I'll be happy to." He said and before he gave her a moment he had slid down her body, hoisting her legs apart and planting them over his shoulders, his mouth making contact against her wetness.

Michael gasped and tried to sit up but he held her down firmly.

"Hold still." He reminded her and he proceeded to torture her endlessly.

Michael had never felt such feelings before, she was entirely focused on her captain's tongue, his teeth and his lips and... _**oh, god, his fingers**_. One which was now inserting itself into her hot opening, swallowing the digit like a hungry mouth.

"Oh, god... _c_ aptain." She whimpered wantonly, like a greedy wench. "I... it's too much."

And instead of slowing down or retreating from between her legs at her admission, he thrust another finger inside of her as his thumb and tongue took turns torturing her clitorous.

"I bet you wanna, cum, huh?" he whispered against her flesh before suckling her clit once more.

"I... I don't know..."

Lorca filed that away for later.

He doubled his efforts until she was almost pushing him away, or trying to, but he overpowered her and he pulled a sweet and taut orgasm from her body, leaving her gasping, clenching and twitching. Her vaginal walls fluttering against his thick fingers, the vibrations of her body known only to him.

Hovering over her once more he discarded his jacket and boots and pulled her top off of her body and provided her body with gentle caresses and kisses, indulging her in romantic after care.

"Did he ever make you cum?" He asked her flat out, looking into her eyes, they were glassy but with tears of bliss or sadness he couldn't tell. He knew his own eyes matched hers.

"Not like that." Michael assured him.

"Did he ever fuck you?" He asked, once more using crude language to underline his words.

Michael looked away and shook her head.

"We... neither of us were ready for that." She admitted, he took her chin and made her look at him, simply scanning her face and eyes before kissing her again. Running his tongue along her own, giving her a sample of that bittersweet taste that was all her own.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" He asked against her lips, reaching down to unzip his pants, she heard the audible noise but didn't tense, instead her stomach clenched in anticipation.

He reached inside, "do you want me to _**fuck**_ his name out of your head?" He ran the tip along her slit and she gripped his waist with her thighs but she still didn't answer. "Do you want me to _**make you forget him**_ with my cock?" She gasped as the tip of said cock dipped ever so slightly into her cunt, "fuck, Michael," he kissed the side of her neck before looking into her eyes once more, "do you want me to _**fuck**_ away the memory of his hands from you? Do you... _**want me**_?"

Michael nodded slowly, unable to look away from him, his eyes pulling her in and never letting go.

"Do you want the _**pain**_?" He whispered, lowering his cock more and more into her and she felt the sting beginning to rise. She nodded her head again.

"Say it." He ordered and she didn't miss a beat.

"I want you, all of it."

 _We choose our own pain,_ he remembered.

Without giving her a warning, albeit he did grab her hands and hold her down, he thrust hard into her hot cunt and she groaned gutterly in her chest. She wasn't fighting _him,_ it was just her body's natural reaction to a pain she wasn't entirely expecting.

Holding her hands above her head with one hand, he wrapped her thigh around his hip and began his assault. With each thrust their fingers entwined more and more. With each thrust she thought less and less of her revenge on Ash.

 _Ash who?_ She thought dumbly, feeling and breathing through the pain which was slowly ebbing away to a dull ache.

Using his knees for leverage he hoisted her legs higher up his waist, fucking his hard cock into her at a pace she was learning to meet.

Eventually he released her wrists and she pulled him to her chest and cried out in his ear. He longed to hear her only make these sounds again and again for him. He would have more from her, he would take more from her as she was willing to give them to him.

"Fuck, _fuck, Michael_." He groaned hotly against her throat, the desire to her bite her and mark her tickled his brain and made his tongue tingle in an ancient way. But he didn't, he resisted that primal urge.

Michael let out a sob suddenly and he slowed his pace until he stopped.

She was crying and he cursed himself for going too far.

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't stop." She said instead. He frowned.

"I'm hurting you-"

"Pelase... it's not what you think."

Taking her word for it, he continued. Only this time he did slow the intensity of his thrusts, but he still made sure to pound that hot little spot inside of her every time. He massaged her clit and felt himself drawing closer to the edge. He was going to cum soon, but he wanted her to cum first. He wasn't a selfish lover, he wanted this to be an orgasm she would never forget. And, in his alpha male sort of way, he wanted it to be one she would compare all others to.

"Are you gonna cum, sweetheart?" He whispered against her lips, unsure as to why he called her that as he had never before to anyone else.

Michael nodded, the tears she had shed dry on her cheeks, she held onto his biceps as he fucked her thoroughly, shocking the air from her lungs. She licked her lips and sighed as her orgasm approached.

She might have been inexperienced but she could tell he was having trouble hanging on for much longer. She moved his fingers slightly to the right and had him press firmly down on her clit in a counterclockwise motion. And soon, Michael felt her orgasm approaching even faster.

"Yes, oh god... I'm so close." She whispered against his cheek.

"I'm gonna cum, _**Michael**_ , shit..." He warned, and for some reason him admitting he was close somehow tipped her over the edge.

"Ah, I'm... I'm _**cumming**_." She couldn't stop herself from saying the words, as if she couldn't believe it herself. Lorca followed her within milliseconds, bracing his hands against the pillow beneath her head as his hips thrust furiously of their own accord; bruising her, damaging her... _**fixing her.**_

Michael felt him shuddering atop her, cumming inside her, shaking and panting against her face. Lazily kissing her, coaxing her tongue to stroke his own, reaching up and gripping her jaw with his fingers that had been minutes ago inside of her.

The whole encounter, from the time she stepped into his quarters, until the last moments of his orgasm to now, lasted potentially fifteen minutes. But she couldn't say for sure, even though she had always felt comfortable about relying on her internal clock.

Once, when Tilly had been going on and on about the joys of intercourse, she had said "it can last all night long", to which Michael didn't believe because, as she herself put it, "exhaustion would eventually get the better of both parties, not to mention dehydration". At the time, Tilly simply laughed and shook her head.

But now, Michael understood what Tilly meant. Her roommate hadn't meant it could literally last an entire night, she only meant if it _was_ good it could _feel_ like all night. And she was exhausted, her eyes staying closed longer between blinks, she could see captain Lorca above her still just looking at her through hooded eyes.

 _What does he think of me now?_ She thought, though it wasn't out of regret, not yet that would come later. What did he think of her now that she was untethered by regulation, disarmed from logic, unbalanced and detached from all she had ever known...?

What did the captain think of her, it played round and round again and again in her mind. So much so that she fell into a deep sleep without realizing it. He let her have this as she let him have her. He tucked her under the covers and she did not wake, he showered and remained there for some time pondering and allowing Michael to remain under his skin even as he thoroughly rinsed himself.

 _Let her stay there,_ he thought. _I hope to remain in her._

Upon returning to the bed she had remained, exhausted and eclipsed by sleep. He toyed with the idea of waking her, taking her slower the second time. But he denied it, shuttered it away for another time. For Gabriel Lorca knew once was not enough.

There would be more times when they would both wish to forget...


	2. PART TWO: Wild Love, Timecop1983

PART TWO

Wild Love, by Timecop1983

The starbase had welcomed the USS Discovery with open, inviting and warm arms. The crew had agreed, Captain Lorca's actions were not to be spoken of. The last thing the crew needed in a time like this was their captain, who had fought tooth and nail to return them to the safety of their own dimension, was to be court martialed and thrown in prison. Evidence was erased, data trails lead to noxious and deliberate dead ends that would make even the staunchest of Starfleet bureaucrats fall asleep.

In the end, it was neat and tidy and all hush-hush. However that didn't stop the air of paranoia and fear that swept through the crew. One of their own, one of Starfleet's finest, Lt. Ash Tyler, had been a spy and traitor all along. Hiding in their midst and it was Captain Lorca who had allowed said operative safe passage aboard the most secretive weapon Starfleet had to offer.

Dr. Culbar and Lt. Stamets had been the hardest to convince. But eventually they both agreed they just wanted to forget everything that happened and move on with their lives. Which would be difficult now that Starfleet and the Federation were made aware of the effects the spore drive had on Lt. Stamets.

Despite the good doctor and the Lt.'s wishes for the Captain stay out of their lives and careers, Lorca rallied hard for the scientist he had used and nearly killed. He objected that Stamets should be tossed in a lab to be poked and prodded like a common animal. He spoke out against such methods, quoting both biblical and scientific texts against the subject.

" _I have seen first hand what kind of corruption playing god can have on a man's soul,"_ he had said at a hearing where many of his crew, including Michael, had attended, " _I have seen first hand the overpowering and overwhelming courage it takes to defeat such a nefarious impulse. I have seen it in myself and others and I am humbled and honored that I should stand here to defend Lt. Stamets for he has never shown anything other than the courage, bravery and explorative collection of attributes this institution has so longingly spouted for years._

 _Lt. Stamets has shown what Starfleet has always been about, he is the definition and you would be, quite frankly, remiss and_ inept _to deny him his freedom. For when we were at great personal danger it was Lt. Stamets who risked not just life and limb but mind as well. You cannot put a price on a man's soul and you cannot punish a man for taking it upon himself, as a captain or a scientist, for being a good human being and doing the right thing when all other options were nothing but dust."_

Lt. Stamets thanked the captain but that was all. In the end, Lt. Stamets was free to go.

Starbase 36 thought morale was low even upon the return of the Discovery so a party was announced. All were welcomed to attend, even her now reclusive captain.

It was rare that Captain Lorca would leave his living quarters on the starbase, choosing to shelter himself away. Weeks passed without Michael having any encounters with him. The thoughts of anger and betrayal quickly returned to her.

And the truth was... she had grown accustomed to seeing him. She had grown used to their routine, even before they had had intercourse. Michael hadn't put much sentimental value in losing her virginity before it happened and even afterwards it remained as it had been before, something that just was.

However, she simply missed him. And, selfishly, she missed his hands, his eyes gazing into her own whether in affection or in conversation.

 _Is it affection?_ She wondered to herself. She had believed Ash had loved her, cared for in the ways one would expect. But now she doubted even her feelings for Captain Lorca, whatever they truly were. Was it love? No. She had never experienced lust though... perhaps this was what it was. A simple chemical imbalance that confused her.

But it was more than Michael's emotional state of mind that missed her captain, she _physically_ longed for him. She had tried to recreate how he had touched her by exploring her own body. And though it had felt stimulating and not unpleasant and new it wasn't the same. She was missing something...

 _Him..._

Tilly managed to convince Michael to attend the extravagant party Starbase 36 was throwing. Michael thought back to the first party she had attended, when Ash kissed her for the first time... her first kiss, the one they had shared but missed. She had thought they were falling in love then, well, she was falling in love with him. Because that's what he wanted, that was his plan all along.

Michael had planned to attend in just her uniform but Tilly told her she should try something else. The science specialist insisted on nothing revealing and the redhead agreed.

Instead, Michael wore a simple black cocktail dress with half sleeves and a low turtleneck and black flats. She had never really experimented with other colors, Tilly had gone on about winters and autumns and Michael had no idea what she was talking about.

" _You know, the colors that best suit you,"_ Tilly had tried to explain but eventually gave up. " _Never mind, the dress is great!"_

 _Oh, Tilly, always so supportive,_ Michael had thought fondly. She was lucky to still have Sylvia, but even Michael hated to admit and only to herself she now doubted the sincerity of every person she met.

All except one...

The party was in full swing when Michael arrived, smoothing down the front of her dress, totally out of her element. She was surprised Starfleet hadn't cuffed and chained her and sent her off to another prison the moment she set foot on the starbase. The first few days she kept expecting to dragged off somewhere dark and terrible but... she hadn't. She still retained the same freedoms on Starbase 36 as she did on the Discovery.

Tilly found her quickly, handing her a drink. Michael sniffed it.

"Relax, it's coca-cola, I know you don't drink." Her friend said sweetly and Michael gave her a soft smile and sipped the carbonated drink.

"Are you ok? Maybe I shouldn't have pressed for this." Tilly said, frowning as Michael had said nothing and looked all around her as if she were waiting for someone. Perhaps Tilly assumed this to mean she was subconsciously searching the crowd for Ash.

"It's alright. I'm glad to be out of my comfort zone." Michael said, it was only a half lie.

"I'm gonna go catch up with some old friends from the academy, wanna come?" Tilly asked but Michael shook her head, she wasn't in the mood for the judgemental glares and questions about why she did what she did at the Binary Stars.

"I think I'll wallflower tonight." Michael said and she did something that shocked both women, she kissed Tilly on the cheek and hugged her.

"Thank you so much, Sylvia." Michael said, genuinely. Tilly smiled and squeezed her hand one more time before disappearing into the crowd.

Michael did indeed remain a wallflower, sipping her coke.

No, she wasn't looking for Ash.

Across the room Michael was unaware that Captain Lorca was locked in a terribly boring and caged conversation with admirals he didn't even like. Not even Katrina was there to rescue him from these thick headed and fat desk-jockeys. She was still recovering.

"Powerful speech at the hearing, Gabe," an admiral said, he was redheaded and bloated like all the rest. An Andordian officer stood nearby, listening and observing in the cunning way they often did.

"Yes, very rallying the troops sort of speech," a female admiral, by the name of Henrietta Burnel said. "I suppose this leaves the big question: what now?"

Lorca shrugged, completely uninterested in their obtuse ways of friendly conversation. It was all the same everywhere he went. They couldn't help themselves from digging their claws in, but it was a good thing he had a thick skin.

"I'm curious," the Andordian spoke up, "What exactly will happen with your mutineer?"

Lorca sighed and looked down at his drink before returning them to the icy little creature.

"That's up to these big pigs- excuse me, _bigwigs_." Gabriel said with a smile, correcting his intentional Freudian slip.

It was then as the Andorian and the admirals went on with whatever bullshit they were discussing next, did Lorca find Michael. She was standing near the bar but not seated, far enough away from the others to not be involved in a group of conversation or dancing.

Gabriel envied her, the way she clung to her drink like a sainted relic. The way she became one with the wall, one with obscurity. He swallowed the rest of his drink and walked away from the petty and unimportant talk of the admirals and Andorian.

Instead, as the music transitioned from classic earth tunes and evolved in a synthesized consonance, his vision narrowed like a predator's did when spotting their prey. Only he had had this prey before. He had isolated himself too long, he needed her.

Michael saw him coming towards her, she thought of raising the drink to her lips in a nonchalant way, a way Tilly had tried teaching her; showing her uninterest and feigning innocence.

But Michael Burnham had no time for such silly obstructions. He was here, he was alive and coming towards her. He was warm blooded and not taking his eyes off her. He was walking towards her with a purpose and she knew she would let him drag her from this overstuffed and hot room if he wanted.

"Michael," he said politely, she tilted her head to him.

"Captain." She replied, her heart fluttering like a caged hummingbird in her chest. And Captain Lorca looked at her like he was a cat ready to snatch her away.

 _I want him to,_ she reminded herself.

"What are you having?" He asked and he reached for her glass to which she let him take, their fingers grazing, flesh meeting and electrictricity dancing across their skin and through their nerves.

"It's... childish." She said with a shake of her head. He sniffed it, a look of remembrance passed over his features before he took a sip and he smiled.

"Well, it's a classic." He said with a smile, handing her drink back to her.

In a corner, Tilly had reunited with Stamets and Culbar who were taking a page out of Michael's book and wallflowering.

"What's going on there?" Hugh asked, gesturing with his head towards the captain and Michael who seemed very familiar with each other and not in a captain and crewman sort of way.

Tilly looked and shrugged.

"Just catching up probably." She said, swaying slightly to the synth musical tones. Stamets snorted and rolled his eyes. Hugh rubbed his back.

"What's the matter with you?" Hugh asked and his husband groaned.

"She could do way better." Paul said and Tilly frowned.

"What are you talking about?" Tilly asked and Hugh seemed to be catching up faster.

"Oh, Sylvia, you're so naive." Was all Paul said before he excused himself to the bathroom.

"I think what he's trying to say is... maybe there's something going on." Hugh explained and Tilly stopped her swaying and shook her head.

"No. Michael loves- _loved-_ Ash. She's not over him, she wouldn't do something like that. It's not her."

"Unless... it's a rebound."

"No. Not likely. With the captain? No."

Hugh didn't think it was so unlikely as captain and science specialist continued sharing personal space and the same drink, passing it back and forth between the two. If their body language wasn't enough evidence to convince Tilly then sharing a drink so intimately should've been.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Michael asked Lorca as he relaxed against the bar.

"Honestly? I hate parties." He admitted and she sighed.

"As do I. Well, I'm not used to them." She corrected herself.

"Can I ask you for a dance?" Lorca dared and she looked at him and then the dance floor, then at her own feet.

"I doubt all of these admirals and officers would think very highly of that."

Then Michael felt his hand take hers.

"In the time you've known me when I have ever given the impression I cared?" He challenged. Michael felt a swell of courage but let him lead her to the dance floor as a slower song began to play.

"You've danced before?" He asked as they began and she looked away from him. He sighed.

"With Ash, yes." She said sadly and he brought her a little closer.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Michael found it so strange that he was so gentle and comforting now. When they had sex he had been commanding and dominating. But it all felt real to her now... it didn't feel fake, it didn't feel like he was putting on a show.

Looking back up at him she spoke again, "have you ever lied to me?"

Gabriel furrowed his brow at her and shook his head.

"I doubt I ever could." He told her and he wanted to kiss her, under the low blue, red and yellow lights. Instead he held her to his chest and he knew they were being watched. Neither cared.

Scared Captain and Mutineer held on tight and swayed hardly at all.

"Can we... will you make me _**forget**_ again?" Michael whispered to him, loud enough for only him to hear over the music. He instinctively felt his hand on her lower back flex and grip her tighter at her shy request.

"When?" He asked her. He felt her lips move against his neck.

"Now."

And that's how they ended up in a deserted office, prying and pulling and clinging to one another. Gabriel groaned harshly as her mouth clung to his neck, biting him a little. He wrapped her around himself and collapsed into a chair with her on top of him, slipping her legs through the arms of the chair, straddling his waist.

Michael returned his affection, kiss for kiss. He reached under her dress and found her just as wet as the first time and he ran his fingers up and down her opening before yanking her panties aside.

"Fuck me, _**please**_ , make me forget." She begged leaning her forehead against his own.

"I'll make you forget, I promise." He vowed and with his guidance she sunk down slowly onto his hard length. He shivered at the sensation of her hot cunt enveloping him.

"I missed you, I missed you." She whispered, maybe she was unaware of what she was even saying. Gabriel sat up a little straight in the chair and began moving into her as she fell down onto him, planting herself in his lap as he gripped her waist to his frame.

"Yes, _**yes**_." She whimpered, her voice pitched higher but quiet at the same time. They had to be quiet, the area wasn't used this time of rotation but he knew how loud he could make her be.

"Is that what you like?" He whispered against her lips, he quickly learned how much she tingled from talking to her during sex. She nodded and closed her eyes. " _ **Deep**_ , so deep." He pulled her harder down on his cock with each passing word.

"Harder... please, _**harder**_." She begged and he rose up and planted her down onto a desk, pulling her hips to the edge and hammering back into her.

"Stop." She suddenly said and he paused, once again worried he had hurt her. She pushed him from her and kissed him wetly.

"Can I... face away?" She asked him and he was more than surprised but nodded. He turned her around and raised her dress again and gently bent her forward, but knowing she had a pension for roughness yanked her backwards towards him and entered her quickly and without waiting for her. She groaned against the desk and he grabbed an arm and dragged it back and held it down against her lower back as he began fucking her again.

"Are you picturing him?" He couldn't help but ask and she shook her head.

"No..."

"Are you lying?" He cut in and she once again shook her head, more quickly this time.

Gabriel leaned down over her back and reached around under her dress to stroke her clit, the way she had shown him before. She stifled a cracked moan that escaped her mouth, pressing a hand to her mouth. But he moved it away, holding her hand in his as he kissed the back of her neck.

"Are you close?" He asked her and she nodded. He slid his forearm under her forehead but slid it down so she would cry out into his arm. Knowing she was close he increased his speed in sharp stabs into her cunt. She felt tears splitting her eyelids open and his ragged and hot breath eased over her like a warm wind.

"Oh, god... right **there**." She cried out her release biting his arm through the fabric of his uniform. He wasn't far behind her, just like before.

"Fuck, fuck, _**Michael**_."

Michael felt like she had been pulled into a blinding vortex, falling through and down an obsidian fissure weightless.

Gabriel was feeling a little less poetic. He felt, once again, sated and full. His ego was well and fat, he glorified in Michael's peak. He couldn't deny he felt extremely sublime in his ability to get her off. It was purely an animistic pride he felt. She was _extremely_ pliable, sensitive and warm.

But quickly, even after the shuddering and shaking in his knees faded, he was there to give her the after care he knew she needed. Lifting her sweaty little frame into his arms he carried her back to the chair where they had begun.

Gabriel cradled in his arms, wiping her face and adjusting her panties; when his hand brushed against her slick heat she jerked, over stimulated and swollen.

"Shh, shh," he whispered into her ear, kissing her precious teardrop lobe. "I've got you, sweetheart."

Gabriel still wasn't sure why he called her that.

"I don't know why I need you," Michael said quietly, her small hand played with his jacket absentmindedly. "But I forget I'm in pain when I'm with you even though..."

"What?" He asked.

"Even though you hurt me." Michael buried her face in his chest, weeping quietly. He held her tighter.

"I hurt you." He simply said.

"It hurts when we're done. When I have to remember... _him_."

Gabriel cupped her face and tilted her head up to meet his eyes. But she seemed to be having a difficult time looking at him. She felt bare and vulnerable, she felt raw and unformed. Like he could mould and remould her. Make and unmake her.

With her bottom lip trembling and her eyes looking anywhere but at him he said, "look at me, Michael." His voice was gentle but his fingertips on her chin firm.

"One day this won't be enough," he told her and he felt her tense. "We have to heal without always turning to... whatever this is."

Michael shook her head.

"You know it's true," he said.

"Until then?" She questioned, afraid of the answer.

"I'll be here. And one day you'll wake up and... he won't be the first thing on your mind."

Michael seemed a little more reassured but he could still see the sad, girlish longing in her eyes. She seemed so much smaller as he held her like this, the rumble and boom of the music from the party echoed around them like a prayer.

 _I won't let anyone take her from me,_ he vowed silently. Gabriel didn't know if he loved Michael Burnham or not. But he did know he would scour the deepest and darkest depths of the cosmos to find Voq and kill him. Put a phasor to his head and end his miserable traitorous life. Voq and L'Rell had made this more than a cunning surveillance mission. They had _both_ made it personal.

The she-Klingon bitch would pay double for it. When he was done with her she would have worse than a scared face and wounded pride. He would end them both and give their hearts to Michael as a fucking trophy.

 _See what you make me think, sweetheart, what you make want to do for you?_ He thought.

It's all that mattered know, fixing her. Binding and cleansing her. She was... she was...

"The beginning, middle and end." He said aloud and she squinted at him in the dark, misunderstanding or not comprehending his words at all. It didn't matter, she didn't have to.

But if only she knew how long he had wanted her... what he was willing to do to keep her and to ensure her safety above all else.

"It doesn't matter." He said, brushing her forehead with his fingers.

"I don't know what to think anymore. He's... ruined me." She sighed.

"No," Gabriel said with a shake of his head. "You're just broken. But that's ok. It's ok, Michael."


	3. PART THREE: Lovers

PART THREE

Lovers

As the days ticked on so did their affair, spiraling and whirling beyond their control. It was like the slow beat of an ancient song, lulling them into a dreamy otherworldly land; the only inhabitants were each other. There was no resolution except for the pleasure he and she coaxed from one another. She would cry out and beg him to find her fruition.

The small moments they found were cherished, held tightly to one another. Cupboards after briefings, his quarters, the shower after a sparring session. Gabriel allowed her to condense her anger and aggression and let it out on him. He could take it. He willingly took whatever it was she was willing to give him.

But the one thing he seemed to always be chasing after still belonged to someone else.

Michael's heart was a fragile thing and he knew this better than most. He knew he should put their affair out of it's misery. But it was past the point of no return. They were too far gone. And now new nightmares had taken the place of his lost crew. Nightmares of the abstract Ash-Voq creature coming to take Michael away or worse murder her in her sleep.

Michael still had not stayed an entire night in his quarters, she was still rooming with Tilly even on Starbase 36. And questions still whirled and whispered their way throughout the Discovery crew and beyond about what would happen to the ship now that the spore drive was discontinued and no longer needed in the war effort. Where would the infamous Captain Lorca go...?

What would happen to the once regal but now disgraced Michael Burnham?

These thoughts kept Gabriel awake and forced nightmares of horrid imagination. In his night terrors, Michael was always crying and begging for him to kill her or keep her but not to send her away. In his nightmares Voq-Ash would appear and cut out her heart and eat in ghoulish glee in front of a helpless Gabriel.

And he would hold her still and lifeless body and scream into the void.

"You're still awake?" Gabriel turned his head to look at Michael. She lay covered by a blanket beside him. She reached out and lay a hand over his heart.

"You should go." He said sadly, touching her hand with his.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"Voq." He answered and she rolled away, curling into herself, a defense mechanism, possum.

"I'm sorry." He said kissing her shoulder. "If I could take you away from this I would."

"We can't think that way." She told him firmly, yet the timber in her voice gave her away, she did _want_ to think that way... she _did_ think that way. In her daydreams and asleep. She always thought of _that_ possibility.

Eventually she showered and left.

Yes, she had to rid herself of his scent, of the imprint his hands had left. But it never went away. Now she was replacing one demon that haunted her with one that shared space with her. Had she been wrong to seek solace in the arms of her captain... was he still her captain?

And moreso, had the others noticed? Perhaps they were growing too careless, too reckless. But the hours and minutes that remained for them to be together was an unknown. Orders had not yet been given, her crewmates had not yet been reassigned. Nothing was for sure in the ever expanding weeks that had followed the escape of whatever hell they had landed in.

No word from on high had reached any of them of reassignment. The crew of the USS Discovery was left to wait, toiling endlessly it seemed in an unfamiliar routine environment. They waited and waited.

For Michael and Gabriel, it was a welcome reprieve and yet it remained unspoken of how deeply their mutual connection was growing.

The two of them did not seek out Starfleet councilors much to the higher-ups dismay, however, Gabriel did indulge Katrina when she was well enough to talk again.

He had confided in his old friend of an attraction to a subordinate, he ad admitted he may have been acting foolishly. Katrina didn't ask who the woman was but her intense gaze seemed to give reason she did know.

" _Are you sure you're not just acting on impulse? That this isn't some side effect of what you've been through?"_ Katrina had asked him, point blank. He hadn't known how to answer at the time. Katrina suggested he speak to this person and share his feelings, keeping them bottled up was unhealthy. But that's all he knew.

Keep everything buried, keep it hidden under earth and stone and the rubble of his sanity. Leave it for another day.

Michael sought out Dr. Culbar to prescribe a birth control, his eyes hadn't held surprise like she expected, more like... relief.

"Can I ask who the lucky man is?" He teased gently and she shot him a narrow look. "Or not."

"I just... want to take precautions." She said to him as he injected her arm with a hypo spray.

"Better safe than sorry. But..." He stopped himself, unsure and Michael asked him what was wrong. "It's just, Paul and I have noticed that- it's not my place. Forget I said anything."

Michael watched him as he fidgeted with tools and equipment, normally the resident CMO was so orderly and professional. But now he was unsure of himself entirely. He seemed out of his element. But there was a lot of that going around now.

"Please," Michael said, "if there is anything wrong you can tell me."

With a sigh, Hugh turned to face his friend and patient.

"Michael, it's just there has been some talk about you and the captain. I'm not going to sugar coat anything for you-"

"I would be insulted if you did." She added.

"-but it's not all good."

Michael swallowed and stood from the medical bed.

"Am I correct in assuming that more... _important_ members of Starfleet have become involved in my personal life?" She asked him vaguely but pointedly. Hugh nodded. "Thank you, Doctor Culbar, for your council. It is appreciated."

With that Michael left, she knew where to go. Gabriel would be in a meeting now, but she could wait. Outside the door of the briefing room she couldn't stop her knee from bouncing. The reality of their dalliance was now taking it's toll on her as it all seemed to sweep over her mind and body.

What had she been thinking and how could she have let herself be so careless? What little career she had left deserved to be salvaged and yet she went and dared defy what little second chance she had been given, and for what? Lust, passion... a balm for her still open and festering wounds?

It must have been the same for him. Satisfying his male urges with her willing and giving body. She suddenly felt dirty. How had he put it, the way Ash had made her feel?

" _ **Used."**_

Regret followed in the turbulent tide of emotions. She thought that giving into emotion and censoring her logic was, in a paradoxical way, logical. But now she was seeing the error of her ways and she waited impatiently for her... _lover_ to appear before her.

Michael wanted to shift blame to Ash... or whoever he was now. He was her enemy, blaming him was the irrational and human thing to do. Lay it at someone else's feet and pretend it was never your responsibility to maintain a sense of duty and decorum. What kind of role model was she now...?

The meeting had adjourned and when Gabriel stepped into the hall he immediately took notice of her. She rose from her seat.

"May I have a word, Captain Lorca?" She asked him, her tone giving no indication she was either angry or pleased. That their relationship had never gone beyond pure professionalism.

"Of course, specialist Burnham." Lorca replied steadily, he gestured to the now empty briefing room. She entered and the door slid closed.

"People are talking..." she wasted no time in explaining what Hugh had informed her of. Lorca's face remained implacable. He leaned back against the table with his arms crossed over his chest listening to her as she paced to and fro.

"People like to gossip, Michael," he began, trying to ease her visible tension. "They're bored, empty headed idiots."

"How can you possibly be so calm?" She asked him, he was an enigma. Even now, after spending many nights with him, she knew so little. He was difficult to translate, to put a definition to. He was simply a bewilderment to her, plain and simple. He was a dead language with no script to his origin.

"What do you want me to do?" He said with a wave of his arms. "I can't stop people from wanting to gossip about something that-"

"Don't say it isn't true because that's _not_ true." She interjected, frustrated and wringing her hands.

Gabriel approached her, gently taking her arms in his hands.

"That's not what I was going to say. I was going to say, it is true. All of it. I'll even admit it if it comes to that. I'll take the punishment, you shouldn't have to."

Michael felt like she had shocked by a spore drive jump, that her whole world faded into one long, barren black alert.

"Why... why would you do that?" She asked him, slowly shaking him from her person and moving away. "You've always taken such a keen interest in me," she said looking around the room at nothing but to her she was seeing their whole history, playing out in front of her, fitting into a strange puzzle she seemed to only now be making sense of.

Suddenly, she turned on him and he frowned, confused and befuddled.

"You... _you_ started this," she said her eyes filling with tears. "You... always put my preservation before anyone else. Before the crew, _before_ your own life. Back to the very beginning, the moment I set foot on Discovery. Why?"

Gabriel licked his lips and exhaled, he didn't scan the room for inspiration or deflection.

"Because I... I saw something in you that I needed to watch over."

But Michael wasn't buying it. No, her broken heart and her paranoia that he too was lying to her controlled her every action, that he had been manipulating from the start was crushing her.

For once her emotions weren't leading her to some man's bed or arms. Instead, they were forging a weapon.

"No," she shook her head, her eyes glistening with tears. "You... saw your chance. That's all this was."

Gabriel didn't understand and he tried saying as much, tried reaching for her but she shoved him away. The startling action was not lost on either of them. They had sparred before, training simulations while on Starbase 36, but this was meant to _hurt_ him. He saw it, he felt it.

"Michael, you don't know what you're saying." He told her.

"You're just using me. Just like he did. Just like everyone!" She raised her voice louder than she meant to but she didn't care. If he came at her again she would surely strike him. "You seduced me, you've been toying with me ever since you pulled me off that prison transport."

"That's not true."

"Liar." The word came out as a hiss, derision cloaked her voice which was breaking. She was choking back sobs, holding off tears, clenching and unclenching her teeth and jaw.

Gabriel did not take kindly to being called a liar.

"I've _never_ lied to you. Kept you in the dark for your own safety? Absolutely. But I have never lied to you. How dare you talk about using people? Are you forgetting your own little sorted part in all this?" He was advancing on her again and she took a protective stance against him and he halted, he knew she would hurt him if he came any closer.

"I'm not the one who-"

"What?" He snapped at her. "You're ready to tell me that _I'm_ the one who started this? You came to me, you wanted _me_. You asked _me_ to make _you_ forget. And yeah, I obliged the sorrowful little lady who begged me to fuck her."

Michael practically flew across the room and struck him soundly across the face. But this was no one sided dog fight. He grabbed her by the lapel of her jacket and yanked her forward until they were inches apart. He caught her viper hand in one of his own, twisting it behind her back.

"You're sick." Michael said to him through the pain in her wrist that was traveling up towards her neck. But she couldn't bring herself to fight back anymore.

"No, Michael, we're both sick. Don't play the victim with me. I gave you nothing you didn't want. If you're so concerned about your reputation then stop coming to me." With that he released her and strode angrily out of the room.

Michael waited until she was sure the doors had slid closed again before collapsing onto the floor, sobs spilling out of her mouth until her lungs were sore. She had not felt this close to pure agony and hell since the day Philippa had died. Even after Ash's betrayal, nothing had come this close...


	4. PART FOUR: Burn With You

PART FOUR

Burn With You

Michael tried to sleep alone that night but she was haunted once more by nothingness. Tilly snored loudly across from her. She could tip-toe to Lorca's quarters and be back before her roommate woke. Or she could make up an excuse as to why she wasn't there when Tilly woke up. Every time Michael sat up in bed she rationalized why she should stay.

 _I didn't realize how well I slept beside him,_ she thought blandly.

Michael was once again facing a paradox: she wanted to be near him, to be enveloped by him, but she wanted to scream at him and hurt him. She wanted his lips and his body, but she wanted to burn him with her pain. Mark him with some invisible brand as he had somehow done to her. She felt bound to him now... and she didn't want to.

Less and less, Michael realized, she had thought of Ash. The hurt still lingered but it was a dull numbness. And the hurt she felt towards Captain Lorca was entirely different. She shouldn't have let her emotions control her. If she had used logic as the tool she was raised to use it as, she would have seen that Captain Lorca had never had any nefarious intentions towards her.

Ulterior motives? Yes, certainly. Like trying to save the Buran. But with her... she should've seen how obvious it all was. He had never lied to her, he had never shunned her. What he saw in her... was a mirror of himself. He was the only person from the very beginning when she arrived on Discovery to utilize her abilities and to see in her the potential she had always had. He had believed in her, encouraged her, given her freedom again.

" _ **I will use you in any way I see fit..."**_ those words, however, began to dilute all others.

She felt indebted to him but it was a debt she was willing to pay. Perhaps that's why he became intimate with her? Perhaps he thought this was her way of paying him back...? No, that couldn't be it either.

Tossing and turning never did Michael any good. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep again unless she faced the problem once and for all.

X

Gabriel had dressed after his shower, frustrated and angry at Michael. Bitter and resentful. He knew she had little to no experience with relationships. But she far from stupid. She knew her own mind, and yet she still questioned his motives. What had it been from the start? Not entirely sexual from the beginning but he had felt an instant attraction and pull to her.

And before he knew it, Gabriel was lost in her orbit. As the time she was on Discovery grew and the confident Michael Burnham appeared the more he felt akin to her. Drawn to her in a way he couldn't describe, kinetic and chaotic. She was like him, when he tore away the nuts and bolts of it. He had stoked her fire and had only wanted to fill her with hope when he had had none.

The comm to his quarters resounded and he sighed.

Of course he had hoped it would be Michael and it was. But he also wanted to send her away, leave her confused and angry. Instead he couldn't bring himself to be so heartless, not to her. He allowed her inside.

"Are you here to apologize?" He asked her, not waiting for the doors to slide shut.

"Yes." She answered, childish and quiet.

"I'm waiting." He said, no he wasn't heartless but he wanted to make her squirm. He had always enjoyed that... From their first meeting when he had allowed himself to get too close to comfort for her, creating a personal space for both of them to dwell in. She had moved away then but it had never lasted long.

"Captain Lorca I apologize for accusing you of..." she dropped her head. "Lying to me, using me. And blaming you for things that you had no part in."

Gabriel grunted, perhaps he could draw this out longer.

"If you never enjoyed yourself you could've fooled me." He commented and she shook her head.

"I think you have plenty of evidence to the contrary." She replied.

"Do I? I don't know, Michael, maybe I need a little more convincing."

There was a heady silence that followed.

 _What game is he playing now?_ She wondered. His voice had dropped the way it did during their intimate encounters together. The way it forced her breathing to change against her will, the way it sent flutters through her body to settle in her core. The way he seemed capable of overriding her senses with a look, a simple touch...

"What kind of convincing?" She went along, attempting to mask her eagerness.

Gabriel thought on this for a moment, clicking his tongue.

"Well, seeing as how I'm still technically your captain, I should introduce some sort of punishment." He concluded, conversationally.

"That is the logical course of action." She agreed, however she felt a twinge of fear that seemed to consort with her lust. But he had always had that power; to make her quiver in the unknown and bask in the bliss he was able to induce.

"You've gone back to logic," he went on. "And here I thought you'd done away with such sentiments."

"I have no sentiments." She argued and he shook his head slowly, finally coming towards her, invading and caroling her with his body and she would be a liar if she didn't want him there.

"Don't lie to me, Michael." He warned, reaching up and burying a hand in her hair, bringing her closer to him.

"I'm sorry." She said again and this time he kissed her forehead, she breathed a sigh of relief.

"I forgive you. I'm sorry for not taking this seriously, not enough to hide it better. What can I do for you?"

Michael shrugged and reached out to hold his forearms.

"Make me forget?" She asked bravely.

"I think I need specifics." He whispered against her lips, torturing her. She still had a hard time putting into words what she wanted, or at least using the words he wanted to hear.

Michael was so professional, so well kept and put together. Rarely did she curse, except when she was about to cum. But he wanted to pull her out of that comfort zone. He wanted to hear what she only told herself.

"Must I?" She asked shyly and he nodded.

"It's what I _need_ now." He told her.

Michael licked her lips, they had suddenly gone dry.

"I want... to have sex again." She said clinically. He chuckled.

"I know you can do better than that." He was slowly bringing her body closer to his with each passing breath, lingering and leaving her longing for more. He knew how to get her to say the words, she just needed a little persuasion.

Gabriel nuzzled the side of her neck, breathing in her scent and then washing his breath over her neck and collarbone; totally aware of the effect it had on her.

A tell tale whimper followed.

"I need you." She said hoping to receive another physical endearment.

"And...?" He kissed her earlobe.

"Ah... I want you to touch me."

Gabriel held her hips in his large hands and slid them down to her backside, gently massaging her perfect ass.

"Where do you want me to touch you? Here?" He gave her left cheek a firm squeeze, pressing his hard on against her belly, then suddenly slapping ass with the snap of his wrist and she cried out.

"Well, you never said _how_ you wanted me to touch." He warned her. She nodded, knowing he was right. The slap had sent a cosmic fucking thrill through her body, slicking her loins and causing a wave of wetness to gush from her slit.

"What else?" He asked getting back on track, sliding his hands below her pajama pants, she wore no panties and he groaned lightly to himself. Cataloging it as something incredibly sexy but it was most likely just a personal preference for her.

"Touch my... breasts. Please?" She remembered to beg and he smirked. One hand holding her firmly against him, his cock pressing achingly into her soft stomach, he slid his hand up her shirt to caress her small breast, lightly pinching her nipple to hardness. The shirt tenting with the arrival of his large hand.

His mouth hovered over hers but he intentionally didn't kiss her, not giving into that temptation just yet but he could see how badly she wanted it. The way she leaned nearer to his mouth but he moved away, enjoying the little sigh of frustration she omitted.

"Please, captain," she whimpered softly, cooing like a little wanton bitch in heat. He reveled in it. His inflated ego and natural male pride swam in the pleasure he invoked in her body.

"Tell me more, Michael." He ordered and she closed her eyes, biting her bottom lip.

"Can't you see?" She begged him and he chuckled darkly.

"I can _see_ it, _feel_ it, but I want you to _**fucking**_ say it." With those last three words he slapped her ass again and she jolted, clinging to him, sculpting herself to him and leaving no room for divide.

"That wasn't a request, Burnham." He reminded her, in his captain's orderly tone, commanding and once again dominating. The definition of male leadership. Macho, alpha, virile, ultra masculine... aggressive.

"I... I need to feel you-"

"Where?"

"-inside me."

Gabriel pressed her into a bulkhead, like the first night they spent together, him learning and conquering her body like a viking savagely taking a village maiden.

"Keep your hands at your sides." He ordered her and he slid down to his knees, propping one of her feet against his thigh so her legs were spread but she was safely supported.

 _Unless her legs give out,_ he thought mischievously.

Gabriel wasted no time and pulled down her pajama pants, balling and throwing them into a corner. With the tips of two fingers he massaged her sweet clit and spread her wetness back and forth and up and down.

Moaning, Michael wanted desperately to touch him, to find support in him. But he wouldn't let her.

And then his tongue began its assault, penetrating and strong. Like the rest of him.

"Captain..." she moaned hotly, heavily.

Two fingers entered her at once, the slight pain easily faded away as he began thrusting them in and out of her tight passage, her wetness making them glide fluidly.

Soon his pace shifted and he began thrusting harder, rapidly, knowing how much pressure and force was needed to get her off, the heel of his hand bumping into her clit.

"Yes, _yes_." And she was so close, so close to cumming that when he stopped and denied her she nearly sobbed.

Standing, letting her foot fall gracelessly to the cold floor, he turned her around, bending her until her hands had no choice but to lean against the wall to keep from falling.

Gabriel pressed his cock in the now bare valley between her legs, grinding and torturing her. Reaching under her sweaty shirt he squeezed her breasts and teased her nipples to tight peaks again.

"What else?" He repeated and for moment Michael couldn't answer, too busy focused on the way his cock pressed into her.

"I want you to take me," she finally said, though that was something she had said before. But before he could remind her to be specific she found a thread of courage. "I want you to... to savage me with your cock."

The graphic mental picture of her words conjured a new fire inside Gabriel.

"I want you to cum inside me," she continued. "I want to be yours. Please, captain, please..."

Stripping away the rest of the clothing he directed her to the bed where he propped her up on her knees, her back pressed to his chest. And rudely, he dominated her with his body. Fucking her into oblivion as she had wanted.

 _She wants me to savage her? I'll give her more than that,_ he thought darkly.

Fucking her in deep, hard strokes she stiffened when his hand came up to grip her throat. But he didn't choke her, he simply held her like this, slowing his strokes, giving her a moment to recover and catch her breath. Kissing her as she had wanted before.

Sliding his hands down the front of her body to rest on her hips he suddenly shoved her forward and she buried her face in her arms and the blankets as he began the invasion of her body once more.

"You like that? Getting _**fucked**_ like an animal." He said heavily, and she groaned as he slapped her ass again. "All that control, all that pent up desire... this is what it turns you into."

"Don't stop." She begged him and he smirked against the back of her neck as he bent over her.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, you're going to have trouble walking when I'm done with you."

Michael felt her stomach flutter and her orgasm approach with each word he spoke. God, how was it possible for one person to make her feel like this?

"I'm... so close, please don't stop." She begged him, her pussy clenching his cock and her hips rocking back to meet his every thrust.

"Cum for me, you can do it, sweetheart." He encouraged, holding her against him again as he worked her towards her peak.

"Right there, sweetheart?" He whispered into her ear, biting it and trailing kisses down her neck. She nodded quickly, urgently, sweat trickling down her throat.

Gabriel watched as her hands flew to his own at her hips, holding onto him for dear life, squeezing so hard she scratched him with her fingernails.

"Ugh, fuck... yes!" She cried out in a broken voice. Her front fell to the bed, he rolled her over and moved inside her again, he still hadn't cum. She shuddered upon his reentry, her body extremely sensitive. Propping a pillow underneath her lower back, he angled her hips just so, reaching a deeper part of her.

"Oh," her eyes rolled back as he began another relentless storm.

"I'm gonna cum inside you," he said, it wasn't a question or a fear but simply a fact. He was marking her as his, taking what he wanted, making her as his own and no one would take her from him. She was his and he was hers. Bound through sorrow, molded and fitted together as a shield for one another. He regretted not making his intentions known to her from the very beginning, the moment they met. Perhaps the Ash-Voq freak wouldn't have gotten to her.

Michael nodded, tears forming in her eyes again but she said nothing only moaned as he fucked her. He fucked the pain away, the hurt and the deception out of her mind. And she absorbed his own grief, his woe, his despair.

And when he finally found his release he slammed a hand into the wall above her head, losing his control entirely, breathing hard into her face and holding her like she was a precious gift. The blow sent a pain through his hand but he paid it no mind, his hand slid away from the wall leaving an imprint.

Collapsing onto his side left Michael on her back beside him, shaking in the aftermath of their climax. Resting a hand on her thigh, gently stroking the skin there, they seemed to listen to each other as they came down from the high of coitious.


	5. PART FIVE: Fair Thee Well

PART FIVE

Fair Thee Well

" _Wondering if I dodged a bullet or just lost the love of my life...?"_

Lorca stared at the message: IMMEDIATE, FOR YOUR EYES ONLY... it was from Katrina, but it wasn't personal. He could tell by her wording: **Urgent meeting, ASAP, one hundred hours... TELL NO ONE.**

"Tell no one," he mocked, and sighed. He zipped up his jacket and as he slipped from his quarters he looked one last time at Michael still sleeping in his head. He briefly thought about waking her, letting her know how late it was. But he knew her next shift didn't start for a few more hours. She was exhausted, maybe he made a little too good on his promise to incapacitate her.

When Lorca entered the briefing room, he was expecting Katrina, maybe a few other admirals but... instead it was _only_ Katrina. No one else. He couldn't help but survey the room. She looked healthy again, supported by a wheelchair. Her physical therapy was going smoothly but progress was slow, but she would walk again.

"I don't like surprises," he said as the doors slid shut behind him. "And it's not my birthday."

Katrina flashed him a sweet smile, one she couldn't help but give. For a moment she looked younger, like their old selves again; years of training and serving together before their paths split apart and everything changed. He would've married her, if only he had allowed himself to entertain that thought more.

Gabriel never told her he had gotten a ring... and lost it in a poker game when he was drunk off his ass.

"Please sit." Katrina said gesturing to a chair, he sat politely beside her. She tapped on her tablet lightly, silence surrounding them.

"Gabriel, there's no reason to beat around the bush," she said finally and flipped her tablet to show him a still frame of him and Michael... together, during the party the starbase had thrown.

It wasn't his best angle and he hid his distaste, silenced his fury. Katrina was playing this pretty close to the chest but far enough away to make it hurt.

"How long?" She asked him, turning the electronic device towards herself and closing the picture, tapping a few more times. She was calm, cool. He didn't like it.

"Since we got back." He admitted, there was no point in lying when the proof was right in front of him.

"And who began it?" She asked, her tone sanitary, she was being professional and speaking as an admiral and _for_ the admiralty. This wasn't a meeting between friends, this was a two party hearing.

"I did, I was... the aggressor." He said honestly. Katrina's hand paused and her eyes rose before the rest of her head.

"Aggressor? Interesting choice of word." She commented and he rolled his eyes.

"Come on, Kat, you know what I'm like."

"Oh, yes, I do. But I never painted you as a seducer."

Gabriel clenched his fist under the table. She knew who he was and what he was like. And now she was using her promotion, her position to act like she did and didn't know him at all. She was cherry picking his best and worst qualities, and he didn't appreciate it given their history. He was glad he lost that fucking ring, but that was just his anger now.

"It was- _is_ \- mutual." He told her assuredly.

"You might want to choose your words better. Aggressor isn't going to sound good on paper."

"For...?"

"You know what for."

The barb stung, but now was the not the time to get offended. He couldn't tell if she was being too personal or not at all. She was... detached but she was remaining tightly linked. But it was strained and uncomfortable.

"I am to resign over an affair?" He clarified. She shook her head.

"No. You'll still hold the title of captain but as far as promotions or... the chair go, you'll be transferred to Stafleet Academy where you'll teach, whatever you want."

"How _kind_ of you."

Katrina sighed deeply and adjusted herself in her wheelchair, her legs becoming stiff so she rubbed them. He didn't offer to aid her, he didn't care at the moment. He was hardening himself towards her.

"I hope you know this could've been worse," Katrina said. "I fought hard for you."

Gabriel ignored her sentiment.

"What about Michael?" He asked her and he saw her visibly tense her jaw. No, Katrina wasn't jealous because of another woman. She was angry he had let himself to go this far. That he was throwing everything away for a radical like Michael Burnham. That he had been careless.

"There's no easy way-"

"Yes there is." He said, his voice low. "A pardon."

"That's out of the question, she started a war."

Gabriel rose from the chair swiftly, nearly knocking it over. He wanted to hurt something, or someone. Instead he ground his teeth into his bottom lip.

"No," he said shaking his head and facing away from her. "She tried _preventing_ a war. At great personal cost. But... you wouldn't know anything about that."

Gabriel heard the whirring of her cybernetic wheelchair.

"How _dare_ you-"

"Cut the shit, Kat. You have the power to help her, she aided in the war effort. She helped destroy and expose the Klingon cloaked ship. She got _you_ out."

Gabriel finally faced his old friend, his old lover. The woman he once had wanted to spend the rest of his life with. But now they had changed, they were different people. Because that was then and this was now and right now he didn't care about his reputation. He cared more about Michael, he had since the moment he first laid ears on her story, on her past.

Gabriel realized in that moment that he had loved Michael Burnham longer than he realized. Because loving someone meant you were willing to sacrifice your own self preservation for their own.

"I don't care about teaching," he began, his voice broken and his eyes watering. "I don't care about the chair. I care about _her_ , Kat. Get the pardon and I'll disappear forever. I'll never darken another starship again. That's what the other admirals really care about, isn't it? Getting rid of me."

Katrina licked her lips and set her jaw straight, she slapped the tablet down on the table.

"Gabe, I would do anything for you. But this is... it's out of the question." She told him finally, attempting to make him see reason.

"How can you do this to her? She's-"

"A mutineer! Don't you think I'm grateful for her though, that I know I'm alive because of her? Jesus, I'm not heartless."

Katrina's anger finally showing, he approached her carefully and knelt down in front of her, finally resolving to be gentle with her. They never did fight well.

"Kat... she's all I have now. I'm all she has. You can't do this to us."

"Gabe, if Starfleet ignored every policy for personal sentiment nothing would ever get done-"

She stopped when he flung himself from her view and paced like a wild animal.

"You made a case for me, why not for her?"

"Stop asking _**why**_ , you know why." She begged him, rubbing her forehead with her fingertips as if she were in pain.

"And you wouldn't do this for me, after everything we've been through. You've got pull with the admirals, you could easily make a case. Have you really changed so much?"

At that she paused and rested her fingers on her chin and laughed sadly, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Yes, Gabe, I have. I used to think we'd be this age and... shit, I don't now, have a few kids and live on some colony in peace. I used to be this girl who thought you were the most amazing man she had ever met. I loved-I _did_ _love_ you, Gabe. I would've followed you everywhere you went but... _you_ changed too. We're not those kids anymore. There was a time I would've sacrificed my career for you but we both made different choices. You chose the chair and I chose my work. I'm sorry if that disappoints you but I will not forfeit the life I have built for your obsession with Michael Burnman."

Standing there, mute he breathed in a shaking breath and exhaled slowly. He looked out the view screen of the briefing room; all those ships coming and going, war torn and tired. Discovery herself, nestled against a backdrop of blanket space.

He could still see Michael entering his ready room now, even with his back to her; she would've been weary, unsure, cautious but curious. She had looked beaten but unbroken. She had looked... _celestial_.

"Good day, admiral."

Gabriel didn't wait for her to answer, instead he strode out of the room. He knew he still had time to see Michael, she would still be in his quarters resting. His uniform suddenly felt too tight, he felt his heart pounding in his chest. This might the last time he sees her. The last conversation they have before they're both sent away.

Pardon or not, captain's chair or not, he had to tell her how he felt before it was too late.

X

Michael showered in Gabriel's quarters, realizing she had thought his name probably a million times but never said it to him.

In the shower she said it aloud, in different ways. She shook her head and scrubbed her face, she'd never get used to it. It was strange when someone new said your name, even moreso when that someone was the object of affection.

Affection... fond attachment, devotion, or _**love**_.

Rinsing her hair she tried to shake the word from her mind, it was still alien to her. Such sentiments weren't part of her upbringing, except from Amanda. But Sarek's stoic and Vulcan lead way of life allowed very little of Amanda's motherly kindness to break through. She had read about it but never understood it.

Why love when it inherently causes pain? Why devote your life to someone when you could never truly know them? And what did she know of Captain Lorca?

Upon her research she discovered much of his career but little of his past. He was outgoing at the academy, he was athletic and liked. He was always ambitious.

But Captain Lorca had never been married, he never seemed to have time for relationships. However, that was only her simple deduction. He had been career driven then but... what did the future hold for them now? Everything was so uncertain. The past, present and future felt all in flux.

But the future was always changing and evolving. It was an uncertainty that was also an assurance. Everything changes, all things must for the natural order of things to continue as they should.

So _they_ should too.

Michael heard the doors open and close from the outer room. She felt her heart flutter. She turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a soft towel around her body.

 _Say his name, you haven't yet,_ she told herself. _Be brave, you can do that._

"Gabriel?" She questioned, in a voice that she had hoped wasn't as timid as it seemed.

"Michael Burnham?" Her heart froze and sank. That wasn't Gabriel's voice. It wasn't any voice she recognized. Her flight or fight instinct kicked in. She pressed her back to the doors.

"Michael Burnham, are you in there?" It was security, there was no one else it could be. This was it, their time was up. She had been dreading it and naively believed it would never come. That their affair would go on. But no, she was wrong. She had dreamed a little dream too long.

"Yes." She answered, her chin held high.

 _Be brave, I know you can be brave,_ she reminded herself.

"Miss. I'm going to need you to get dressed and come with us." The voice said and she nodded to herself.

"I'll come willingly." She answered.

Michael wept as she dressed, choking back her sobs, her chest heaving in uncontrollable convulsions. With her hands shaking, she tried to make herself looking as presentable as possible. If she were to be taken away into custody, yet again, she would at least attempt to make herself appear decent.

But no, she would always be an outcast. The blacksheep and the black mark on Starfleet's name.

Her face was red and her eyes swollen when the two young faces of the small security team appeared.

They gently took both of her arms. They didn't cuff her, for which she was grateful. Perhaps it was her war record that made them give her that. A little bit of respect, even amongst those who hated her.

As she was lead away she heard Gabriel's voice and she couldn't help but turn. But she didn't fight.

 _Be brave,_ she chanted. Even if the look on his face broke her.

"This is absolutely absurd!" Gabriel shouted at the two officers holding her.

One stepped in front of Gabriel in an attempt to calm him down while the other held both of her arms.

Gabriel felt helpless, powerless, as if he were some ordinary citizen with no history or background: he was still, at this moment at least, _Captain_ Lorca.

He wasn't just some fucking back office admiral, hiding behind their title, throwing their weight around wherever he saw fit.

And Michael wasn't just some criminal: she was Michael Burnman, xeno anthropologist, scientist, explorer, first officer... the woman he loved.

 _Celestial._

Michael's head was still hung low, her body going limp. He wanted to shelter her, protect her, take her home with him... wherever home was. They could make it together-

"Please stop." She said quietly, hanging her head, begging him. She couldn't look at him but she wanted to, she had to see his face. But the depth of her shame suddenly swept over her. She didn't want him to see her like this.

"Do you realize what she's done? What's she's sacrificed!" Gabriel snarled, getting in the young man's face and for a man who was only a little above average height he towered over the security officer, sizing him up and ready to end his career in a single blow.

 _Please, you're only making this worse,_ she begged him in her mind.

"Captain, I'm sorry but I have my orders." The young man said, clearly terrified, his hand hovering over his phasor.

Lorca noticed this.

"You think you have the guts to shoot a Starfleet captain, kid?"

"Enough, please!" Michael shouted, finally raising her head. Gabriel had spent the last year and a half fighting to keep her safe, putting his own safety at risk- even at times the crew and Discovery herself- he had bowed to her every whim, seen her through the darkness and taken her into his flock.

But now it was time for her to save him.

Upon looking into Michael's eyes, his own, which had so often mirrored hers, pleaded with her.

Achingly slow as if it pained, she shook her head.

"Goodbye, Captain Lorca. It was an... honor serving with you." Was all she said and that more than the threat of the eager and frightened security officer's twitchy trigger finger disarmed him.

Watching her fade down the corridor, his eyes narrowing into tunnel vision he felt nauseous. He felt trapped by the tilting starbase that surrounded him. And he had long since gotten used to his space legs.

 _Get me out, get me out!_ His mind screamed.

Gabriel tore through the hallways and bumped into faceless people, uncaring of who or what he hurt along the way. He had to find somewhere... something.

And that's how he ended up on the Discovery, crew and repair teams alike mingling. The corridors of the ship were almost barren. Finding the simulation room empty, he locked the doors. But he wasn't here for a training simulation on how to kill Klingons.

No, alone and like in his nightmare minus a dead Michael and a monstrous Ash-Voq creature, he screamed and yelled into the void.

The captain punched walls, tore out access panels with his bare hands.

It had been for nothing, all his weariness. All his work to keep her safe and out of Starfleet's hands had been for nothing... he was _**nothing**_. He felt betrayed and angry and alone. For all his efforts, he had failed, again. He felt the same weighted helplessness he had felt when the last vivid, glittering impression of the Buran being torn apart by explosions faded.

But the wounds he felt forming inside of himself were different than the visible damage done to his eyes. A malnourishment of the heart and soul. A sickening abyss, desecrated by unseen and hidden black faces.

When he had finished taking out his chaotic rage, he went to his ready room. Soon the shift rotation would commence and he would remain here. He wanted no part of the starbase's luxuries or parties or thick headed, bastard admirals. He had no use for foolish, former friends and lovers. He only wanted to wrap himself in his own misery.

Gabriel felt better being on Discovery. It's where he felt most at home. He would've felt better if Michael had been with him, it's where it had all begun.

X

Michael's uniform was once again traded in for a yellow prisoner's jumpsuit that was a size too big. She didn't complain. She held up her hands compliantly when the young officer told her that he had to cuff her. Procedure.

 _Saru, Tilly, Stamets, Culbar..._ she thought of them, how she couldn't say goodbye. Tilly would take it worst of all. She would make passionate arguments for her. She assumed Stamets and Culbar would too but perhaps only out of respect not wanting any trouble than they had already gotten from Starfleet. Saru would write a formal complaint, after all they had been through in the last year and a half she knew he would do that at least. And then...?

Then they would all get reassigned. Go off on another adventure, another battle, another new star and planet. The universe would keep on going on without her.

But Gabriel...? What would happen to him?

The thought of not knowing broke her heart and she wept silently. Here she was, back to square one, number zero... trapped and caged. But it almost hurt more this time. It hurt more that the last thing she would remember of Gabriel was that look on his face.

 _Don't go,_ was what his eyes said. _Don't leave me here._

To herself, Michael couldn't help but chuckle.

Gabriel had been right.

One day she would wake up and not think of Ash. No, this afternoon when she had woken up, rested but sore, she had thought of Gabriel. She thought of the way he always stood, refusing to sit when he ate, how it infuriated her to no end. The way he had tried to intimidate her upon their first meeting.

How little he had known her then.

Michael thought of his lips and how she wished to kiss them one last time. She regretted that even though she knew in the back of her mind that their time was bound and fated to be short, that she still had taken it for granted. She had been foolhardy and selfish.

 _Star crossed lovers, always near but forever apart,_ she thought sadly.

Perhaps he could visit her in prison? She doubted it, it was highly unlikely she would be given the freedom to have visitors.

Freedom... he had given her that too. And again, she chided herself on how easily she had taken it for granted. Even if she had tried to keep telling herself she was on borrowed time.

Michael felt the transport ship release from the docking bay and her stomach sank.

It wasn't like in the movies or books, from earth's old and long history of love stories.

Scene: woman gets put on prison ship, torn away from her friends and everything she's ever known. Man swoops in and rescues her, they live happily ever after, the end. Roll credits.

But no, in real life the woman gets on the prison transport and never sees him again. The end, credits roll.

The transport was fading further and further away from the starbase, Discovery's portside came into view. That beautiful and mysterious ship, as if it were seeing her off. Saying goodbye.

"Godspeed you beautiful lady." She whispered to herself.

The explosion took everyone by surprise and before Michael lost consciousness the last thing she thought of was Gabriel.


	6. PART SIX: Flight of the Valkyrie

PART SIX

Flight of the Valkyrie

" _Our virile Teutonic ancestors did not think their wives unworthy to follow them into battle, or scorn to dream of winged Valkyries bearing them to Valhalla."_

H.P Lovecraft

Michael wasn't breathing, not on her own. She was hooked up to machines with alarms and monitors that would beep at the slightest alteration to her body's functions. Her heart beat on it's own without the aid of a machine, but her lungs were the most badly damaged. Even with all of the future's advancements, they were in a terrible state.

It was important to keep her sedated until they completely healed and she could once again breathe on her own. She sported a new scar on her jawline from where a piece of glass had struck her, only a few inches long in length. Her hands had been badly burned but they were healing well.

He had thought he had seen her battle weary and war torn before, the first time when they met and the second after the Ship of the Dead was transforming into nothing but the birth of a pointent graveyard above a peaceful planet and it's equally peaceful species.

But he had never seen her like this... he had chased her from her comfort zone the way a wolf pursued the doe. She had granted him free and willing access to her body and mind, she had given as much as he had taken, she had taken as much as he had given.

 _They were as one._

One mind, one heart, doubled in the quake that had forced them together. They were of a like mind, akin and kindred, always meant to be. Written in the stars that were a mismatch shapeless form attempting to create itself anew.

He had seen her naked, devoid of clothing and of her everyday humdrum, the prosaic way in which she had created a wall of rules and regulations; he had stripped her bare in all ways but one.

The singular version of Michael Burnham that he now saw before him was not one he had ever imagined, in his own naive way, he would ever bare witness to.

And yet, in her weak and prone and hobbled together state, asleep but not lifeless, he was in _awe_ of her.

 _That which does not kill us makes us stronger_ , the phrase of the hour. _My lady, my Michael, my dark_ **valkyrie** _._

The bell had not yet tolled for Michael Burnham, the handler of such an honor would not be chosen lightly.

It would not be a bloody Klingon executioners death, not by blade or phasor fire or some pathetic terrorist attack.

No, Death chased Michael Burnham, but she was wittier and far more clever.

And Death would have to take her from _him_ now.

It would be a melodramatic fight between bannerets. Gladiator against viking. Man against Death. The age old struggle...

Yawning, rubbing his sore, scarred and tired eyes he sat up straighter in the chair, wincing as his back groaned in pain, out of his control.

Gabriel had not left her side in three days.

The transport ship and the starbase, had been attacked by a group of former Starfleet officers. They found out Michael was on Starbase 36 and sabotaged the transport. Sixteen others were wounded and in critical condition. The terrorists had been caught and taken into custody. But Michael had been their target.

Cadet Tilly and others had come to see her and it had made Gabriel weep when he was alone to think about it. Michael had thought no one cared for her, yet crewmen after crewmen she had served with came to her. Some came to sit and hold her hand, like Cadet Tilly, and cry and be silent.

Others, like Stamets and Dr. Culbar, updated her in her sleep about the events of what was going on in their day to day lives.

The most surprising figure to see appear in sickbay though, was her adoptive father Sarek and her adoptive mother, Amanda Grayson; though the latter shouldn't have been so shocking.

"Captain Lorca." Sarek said in his usually somber but blank tone. Amanda, with tears in her eyes, rushed to Michael's side, taking her hand in her own and wishing she would wake up.

The sentiment was not lost on Lorca who did his best to keep his composure in check.

 _A mother's love will always run deep,_ his own had said to him once.

"Forgive my wife, Captain, she is... only human." Sarek said, approaching the bed slowly but with purpose. But Lorca wasn't sure if the Vulcan was trying to make a bad joke or not. He decided, it was obvious, the ambassador was not.

As Lorca watched the two parents he was surprised at how easy Sarek strayed from comforting his wife. He only stared down at Michael, appraising her physically; Lorca liked to think that perhaps the cold, mute Vulcan was thoroughly making sure his ward was in good hands.

Months ago, it had been the other way around. He had flown the Discovery nearly into Nebula to make sure Michael got a chance to see that Vulcan again. And he wouldn't even touch his wife's shoulder.

Gabriel had to keep reminding himself that it wasn't Sarek's fault, he was Vulcan. He knew how they were and if Michael were awake and saw Sarek holding his wife she wouldn't have believed it was truly her adoptive father.

"We should tell Spock." Amanda said, stroking Michael's hand.

"No, he should not be bothered." Sarek decided.

"They were close-"

"You do not know Spock."

Gabriel wasn't sure if he should stay or if he should go, so he remained far enough away to give them privacy. Familial quarrels were not his forte.

"Husband, do not presume that I do not know my son." Amanda said, resolutely.

"Very well. But he will not come here." Sarek said, surprisingly giving into his wife's demands while making his own feelings known.

"I know. But he should know that she is alive."

Lorca smiled weakly, it was a comfort to know that all men, Vulcan or human, could be cowed to the distressed demands of their loving wives. The women who had given up life and security of all they ever knew, the comforts they were accustomed to, they were now deprived of. The ridicule Amanda Grayson had faced by marrying a Vulcan was not something a weak woman- or person- could've done.

No, Gabriel saw where Michael drew her strength from. Where her heart had been guided even through the immense layers of logic and reason. Amanda Grayson might not have given birth to Michael but...

 _A mother's love runs,_ _ **deep,**_ _Gabriel,_ he could still hear her voice.

Gabriel Lorca was not a man easily moved by tenderness or sentimental affirmations. Or at least he wasn't always. Because you grow up, people you love wither and fade to stardust. And all that's left is the burden and pain of their memory; when you think of a joke they would've laughed at you can hear their voice...

When you see a mother straining not to make a deal with the devil to save their child; it forced memories and feelings to the surface of the expanding sea of Gabriel's emotions.

At some point a message came for Sarek and he excused himself, making a polite but sterile apology. Amanda remained and gestured for Gabriel to join her.

Sitting, she spoke first,

"It's comforting to know you're here, watching over her." She still had yet to release Michael's hand from her own, gently squeezing it now and again.

"She's... she's a valued member of the crew and to Starfleet." Lorca said, hoping his voice didn't sound strained.

Amanda observed him with wistful eyes.

"Sarek tells me there's to be a reevaluation, perhaps even a pardon given the circumstances." She said. Lorca nodded.

"I tried convincing the brass before this happened but..." he looked away, he was going soft and his guard was down.

He couldn't look the woman in the eye and pretend he wasn't in love with her daughter and that seeing her like this, seeing them both here like this, was ripping him apart.

"You know," Amanda began sensing his discomfort, "When I met Sarek he... he was such a bore." She laughed a little. "Insulting but polite, intelligent but so... thick. He had no idea how to talk to a human female. I finally told him if he disliked my company so much he should stop seeking me out. Every day he seemed to find a new reason to bother me. So, when I made my feelings known, he asked me why he would do such a thing. I said, because clearly you think I'm a foolish human with no brains at all. He got this... strange Vulcan look on his face. He told me, I've never thought of you in nothing but the highest regard; you are the epitome of all that is good in your species and your sex."

Gabriel wasn't sure where she was going with this, however it was a clever distraction, which he was beginning to believe was her aim all along. Something light hearted, something to take their minds off of the current situation.

"Well, after that," she paused and looked down, smiling, "How do you turn a man down when he lays his heart out for you in the only way he's capable of?"

Gabriel leaned forward a little in his chair.

"Ma'am, are you trying to tell me something?" He asked her, making sure his question was pointed and aimed ready to hit it's target. It did.

"I just did, Captain Lorca."

Michael's adoptive parents left shortly after that. Sarek thanked Gabriel for looking after his "ward". The prudish Vulcan still used that word, even in circumstances such as this.

But... he was only Vulcan after all.

X

When Michael did wake up and was capable of breathing on her own, Tilly was there as if by providence. She cried, she laughed, she cried again. She thanked gods, she thanked science and the amazing medical staff. She thanked Michael for not dying. All Gabriel wanted to do was carry her away from everything, but he couldn't. It wasn't right, appropriate and... it was not _their_ way.

 _We are as one._

Michael had seen him though, looking past Tilly's wild main of red hair, between hugs and kisses, amongst the faces of Stamets and Culbar, Saru even smiling and laughing with relief.

And when admiral Cornwall arrived to read the conclusion of Michael's reevaluation the room went dead silent.

Rolling in, in her cybernetic wheelchair, Katrina looked relieved and very pleased to see Michael sitting up in bed surrounded by her loved ones. She dared a glance at Gabriel who only nodded.

"Michael Burnham, due to your exemplary war record, your valuable and irreplaceable knowledge and expertise, the charges of mutiny in the first degree and assaulting a captain of Starfleet and the Federation, have all been dropped. By the power vested in me, I hereby reinstate you to your rank as First Officer and we would like to extend to you a full pardon."

Michael didn't say anything at first, she was too overwhelmed. The first thing she did was look to Gabriel, who stood away from the ever growing mass of well wishers. Then she breathed through her newly healed lungs, good as new. And she nodded, closed her eyes, and wept.

Gabriel waited for hours, speaking now and then but when he did it was to everyone but he only looked Michael in the eye. Hoping she would hear him, wishing she could read his mind, that every word he said was to her and only for her.

Eventually, when everyone left and they were finally alone, she was on her side, facing him. He looked around and kicked off his boots.

"What are you doing?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Getting into bed with you." He said simply, pulling back the covers and scooching her over.

"It would not be wise-"

"Michael, I've been waiting days to lie next to you. Do me the honor."

She easily relented. They lay facing one another, their hands interlocked. No worry or care of who might find them or see them. They didn't care. They were together.

"I need to tell you something." Michael said, her forehead almost pressed to his they were so close.

"I'm all ears." He said, a little tired and beaten, not realizing how tiring relief could make a person.

"I... I've never... I've never been good at beating around the bush," she said her voice quivering. "And yet here we are." He added, finding it endearing how she prolonged things.

"I love you, Gabriel." She said his name like benediction, like an enchantment. Like it was her last words.

He closed his eyes, the tears finding their way out regardless.

"I've hurt you?" She asked, fearful and holding his hand tighter, tempted to take it back and wishing she could. Slowly, he pulled himself closer to her, it wasn't close enough, _never_ close enough.

"The opposite." He simply said. "I love you, Michael."

Sleep found them, but their nightmares were kept at bay while they watched over one another. There was no ghoulish Ash-Voq spectre, no war, no monsters. There was no fear, no trepidation, no anxiety.

Whatever the morning would bring for them didn't matter in those blissful moments. All they needed was each other, the closeness of one another. The shared energy, the comfort in the quiet, the gentle hands in the dark.

Gabriel had never thought anyone could tame him, his wild and erratic nature. He had seen himself in the future, alone and content. Perhaps not happy but fulfilled. Perhaps not with the comfort of a companion, but proud of the life he had made. Dying alone, on earth, for he would not have it any other way.

But now... now he was tame. He was a stallion broken, he was no longer the nomadic wolf. He had his mate; his alpha, beta and omega. She was all those things and more.

 _The beginning, middle and end,_ he remembered saying to her once, unsure as she had been as to why he had said them at all. But now he knew. He was trying to tell himself something. He was trying to tell himself even then what she meant to him, what she had always meant to him.

When Gabriel woke he was, at first elated upon seeing her soft and lovely face, then the searing pain in his back caught up to him and he stifled a groan. A terrible cramp had formed from sleeping too long in one position. He slowly moved onto his back, attempting to ease the cramp away.

Michael lay a hand on his chest in her sleep.

Not wanting to leave her but wanting to protect her even since, he rolled from the bed and straightened the covers over her. He leaned down, pressing a hand to her face and kissing her forehead.

"I love you." He whispered against her skin.

Upon reaching his quarters he was about to make a straight line to the shower when he noticed his computer monitor was beeping and a message was floating in the air. He sighed.

Hygiene once again took a backseat to duty. Even if he knew he wasn't going to be a captain- not a field captain anyhow- much longer. But Michael would be First Officer again, somewhere. She would leave, her duty taking a front seat to everything and the personal relationship they had formed would...

Gabriel's hand jerked away from the message as reality came crashing down on him.

He had thought of it last night, too overwhelmed and grateful Michael was awake and talking. Too overcome with their sentiments of love. He leaned his hands against his desk, suddenly feeling very small in this great cosmic universe. Suddenly feeling like a cog in the great machine, instead of the machine itself.

Michael would leave him. He knew her well, he knew that being reinstated, pardoned and given her complete freedom again was what would eventually tear them apart. He was now in exile, banished to earth to teach wide-eyed children the ways of the phasor and how to survive in space when everything around you was trying to kill you.

Michael would be reassigned somewhere far away from him, perhaps even being thrown back into the war effort. Perhaps trying to find a new and safer way to utilize the sporedrive.

Either way, Gabriel knew he was going to lose her. Everything she had wanted, what he had only been able to give half of, was now at her feet in full.

Out of anger he smashed his fist down into the desk. He opened the message. It was from Katrina. But he already knew what it was going to say.

 _Gabriel,_

 _I'm sorry I didn't listen to you sooner and this happened. I know that doesn't change anything between us. You didn't hear it from me but Discovery is going to be docked for some time and you will return to earth. Michael's performance history is under review and she will be reassigned within the month. I'm sorry. I wish there was more I could do but my hands are tied. Please know that-_

Gabriel didn't need to read the rest of the message so he deleted it. Sitting down, taking his time to fully calculate his next move. He couldn't sabotage Michael's future and her career, he wasn't a monster. Even if the idea was tempting. He couldn't ask her to marry him so she would stay, she would say no. And he couldn't go with her.

 _What other hell have I fallen into now?_

 **AN: Thank you guys for being patient and for the reviews! You're the real winners out there lol I hope you're still enjoying the story thus far. I was going to go a completely insane route with this story but decided to scrap it, this is better in my opinion. Thank you, again, for all the reviews and kind messages. And I'm sorry if you were still expecting a lot of full blown smut- I guess it turned into more of a plotty story than I originally planned lol**


	7. PART SEVEN: Neutron Star Collision

PART SEVEN

Neutron Star Collision

" _And all I loved, I loved alone."_

Edgar Allan Poe

" _I was searching you were on a mission_

 _Then our hearts combine like a neutron star collision."_

Neutron Star Collision, Muse

Gabriel waited at the bar on Starbase 36, he was calm and nursing a scotch. Years of battle readiness had given him a strong sense of keeping his head. A lifetime spent in the field, a lifetime spent putting his own on the line so that the people who flitted hither and thither around him slept safely at night.

Lately, he had been sleeping sounder and through the night. Michael at his side aided that. They hadn't yet had sex since she was released from sickbay. He didn't want to pressure or rush her. His needs had been put on hold before, they could wait.

All that mattered was she was healthy again, breathing on her own and up for her last physical today. He had had plenty of time to worry and panic over the conversation that would follow when she arrived to meet him.

He wasn't being cowardly by meeting her in a public place, he kept telling himself that.

But it was strategic in more ways than one.

Gabriel didn't know whose idea it was to put the bar so close to sickbay but it was a damn good one. He had been assigned to teach Ancient Strategy at the academy. A course designed around the idea that even the most base and archaic ways of fighting a war or in battle were useful even in this brave new world they lived in now.

Gabriel had spent his free time creating a curriculum. It was all very tedious. He had never fashioned himself a teacher, not in the traditional classroom sense. He was better in the field, in the chair or out, commanding the crew of his bridge the way a maustro would conduct his symphony.

He was used to organizing warfare in the middle of a damn war, not in some classroom with a simulation. He knew he had never truly learned how terrifying battle could be until he was smack dab in the middle of it, when you're bow to bow with another ship knowing one wrong order could cause a warp core or hull breach. One wrong move and it was all over.

He struggled with teaching instinct, you were either born with it or without, there was no in between. And... they were just kids. What did they know of pain?

What did they know of living with taking the lives of another ship...? Hundreds, in some rare cases thousands, in a single order could end. And you're left with a "job well done" from Starfleet and sleepless nights the rest of your life. Wondering if there could've been another way around it. If it all could've been prevented.

Gabriel hated the idea that he would be responsible for that. That some kid on their first commision could take his advice, use it, and make the right or wrong choice, and they would either live or die by his teaching.

No, Gabriel Lorca was not anxious this day, he was simply... depressed. But with it came an acceptance of a queer nature.

X

"So... like, it's none of my business but, how long?" Tilly asked, she had come with Michael to her last checkup, the last to decide if she was in tip top shape to return to duty.

Frankly, Michael hadn't need Tilly there but the bright and optimistic cadet had insisted.

" _It's what girlfriends do!"_ Tilly had argued.

Michael sighed as they left sickbay.

"Since we returned from that _other_ place, after... Ash." Michael admitted, however she wasn't ashamed, she was quite comfortable talking to Tilly about it. It was a relief in a way. The hiding, the secretiveness of her affair with Captain Lorca was tantalizing at first, but in truth it brought great comfort to know Tilly didn't care and only wanted to be there for her.

"Wow," Tilly said, her eyes wide and her mouth dropping. "It's just... he's so- I mean he's not bad looking, he's definitely got the soldier thing I like- but... he's-"

"Age is not important to me." Michael countered knowingly.

"Oh, I wasn't gonna say that. I mean... he's so serious." Tilly said smiling.

Michael couldn't help but smile either, bashfully.

"You would be surprised." Michael had a mischievous glint in her eye and Tilly gently elbowed her as they entered the turbolift.

"Oh, come on, _details_." Tilly said, gesturing with her hands in a "come on, fess up" motion.

"I... a lady _doesn't_ kiss and tell." Michael said, her hands going behind her back.

"Oh, yes she does! Come on, is it _big_?" Tilly raised her eyebrows and Michael gaped.

"That is completely irrelevant!" Michael said.

" _You'd_ be surprised." Tilly argued again. "So? Come on, I've wondered."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh don't be like that."

Michael adjusted her uniform and the doors of the turbolift slid open with an audible hiss and the two women stepped out, moving through the wide corridors filled with people.

"It does the job." Michael finally answered, shocked at her own use of wording, feeling a blush rising from her neck to her cheeks.

"Look at you, girly." Tilly said with a smirk.

The two women came to the entrance of the bar.

"This is where I leave you." Tilly remarked, with an air of dread. "They assigned me to a Lt. Burk, she's not nearly as fun as Lt. Stamets."

"Good luck, we'll have dinner before I go." They hugged, Michael growing far more comfortable and relaxed when it came to physical shows of affection; however, Tilly was acception.

They finished their farewells and Michael entered the bar, it was quieter this time of evening. The crowd wouldn't start to form until a few hours from. She found Gabriel quiet easily, he was at the bar.

"Hi." She said, taking a seat beside him, folding her hands on the bartop.

"Hey." He replied, he glanced over his shoulder for a moment before turning his attention back to her.

It seemed odd, he of all people, who had watched over her so closely during her recovery, should suddenly be so tense when it came to them meeting in public.

They were a couple, were they not? It was what Michael had determined after all. All of the logistical signs were there: they had admitted their feelings, shown affection, been intimate... of course, not all in that order.

But from the little personal knowledge Michael had of relationships coupled with what she had seen first hand and read about, they seemed to be, as people say, on the right track.

Then why did he seem so rigid?

"Are you alright?" Michael asked him, pointedly. She knew him well enough at this point to know his ticks, his tells. At least she was learning. He was usually very direct, he didn't like taking the long way around the barn. He liked getting straight to the point. It was one of the things she admired about him because she was the same way.

"Honestly? Not really." He conceded with a sigh. "I've been thinking about the future. Where we're both going. Have you thought about it?"

Michael felt herself become as tense as he appeared. She felt a shudder, a feeling of dread pass over her. Like she needed to mentally prepare herself for bad news. The calm before the storm, how you could feel it and taste it in the air... the same feeling she felt when she was told her parents were dead.

"I have." She said.

"And? What do you think?" He asked.

Michael licked her lips, the bartender asked if she would like anything and she ordered a coca-cola.

"I... I know there will be issues," she began. "I'm willing to face them."

"Yeah, I was afraid you'd say that." He said, lifting his drink taking another short sip.

"Why do I feel like you're about to give me bad news?"

Sighing, Gabriel lowered his glass and placed his hand on top of her smaller ones, still folded neatly in front of her. She felt her heart beat faster, her legs were shaking and she was thankful they were sitting.

"It's not going to work." He finally said and she torn her hands out from under him. Standing, the bartender had brought her drink and she ignored him when he told her so.

"You don't... you don't want me to make a scene." She realized, looking around at people who were ignoring her but she felt like they were all listening and staring. She felt looked in on, like a bacteria under the microscope.

"Michael," Gabriel said gently. "You'll be on the front lines again and I'll be stuck on earth-"

"I don't want to continue this here." She said, sniffling and walking away.

Gabriel groaned and followed her, he followed her from a distance. She was going to her quarters.

When she finally reached her destination the doors slid shut behind her, trapping him on the other side. He was taken aback by it and pressed the comm button. There was no answer.

"Shit." He said through gritted teeth. He pressed the button again and again until she finally answered, her jacket removed, her eyes red and puffy. He came inside, but she didn't move out of the way, he had to side step around her.

It felt awkward and not like them.

When the doors closed she let him speak first,

"It won't do either of us any good."

"You're... you ending this." It wasn't a question. "Like we mean nothing to each other."

"You know that's not true."

"Then why hurt me!" She raised her voice, her upper lip curling back, she got in his face and shoved him.

It reminded him of their first fight, only this time her anger was warranted unlike before when it had been irrational.

"How could you tell me you loved me?" She demanded, shoving him again.

"Because I do-"

"I was wrong. You're not a coward, you're a liar." She moved away from him, creating some distance, pacing, a hand pressed to her forehead.

"I wouldn't have done this to you." She said and it broke his heart because he knew it was true.

"Michael, this isn't easy for me." He said, he knew how it sounded. Self pitying and he had never given into that before.

"Really?" She questioned wiping her face. "Because you make it look _so easy_."

"It's not. But it should end now rather than months from now when we can't talk in person. They won't let me back into another chair. I'm banished, exiled. I can't come with you."

"What about when I get back?" She said naively. He didn't want to think of a world where she didn't come back. Where she died in a hail of terror in a far corner of space where he couldn't reach her.

In a world where her body couldn't be sent home to her parents because it was lost, floating in space.

"And what if you don't?" He finally asked.

"I could stay." She said, her voice softening, forgetting her anger. "I don't... I don't have to go."

Gabriel shook his head, he finally found the courage to approach her, to cup her face in his hands.

"I could never ask you to do that."

"What if I want to?" She gripped his sides and let her head fall into the crook of his neck.

"I would give up everything for you." She said and for a moment he was twenty four again, staring at Kat, having the same conversation...

" _We had plans..."_ Kat had said, brokenly.

Lorca felt like he was having deja-vu, reliving those moments where he broke Kat's heart. Now it was a new face, a different age, a different woman. He kept reminding himself through it all why he had steered away from relationships to begin with. Because it had all started with Kat. Those damn dark eyes, those broken whimpers, the plans put on hold and then canceled all together.

" _Maybe in a few years we can start over."_ He had lied.

Gabriel knew he wouldn't feed that sort of bittersweet lie to Michael, he had grown too much. Honesty and truth hurt but lies... they torment you forever.

"Michael, I would never ask you to give up your life and career for me. It's not worth it. _I'm_ not worth it."

Michael gripped the lapels of his jacket weakly in her fingers, breathing deeply as he stroked her back, wanting to remember the way he smelled forever, he was doing the same thing. He hated doing this to her. After everything and they still ended up here. There was no other way around it.

It was never that they were too different, from the beginning it was always that they had been too similar. As if they were being pulled to each other by some unseen magnetic force and no matter how hard they fought against it, they would always end up back here.

They were always meant to be, and not.

"I think you should go now." Michael said finally, she had removed herself from his space, put a metaphorical galaxy between them. She was trying to be strong by looking away. He knew she would recover, it was impossible for her not to adapt to this. She would acclimate to it, as she had done before.

This hurt was different than Ash, he kept telling himself. He had never lied to her, never used her, he had never had vicious intent towards her. He had only wanted to keep her safe, protected, secure... _alive_. And he had at least succeeded in someway in regard to those things.

"Goodbye, Michael." Gabriel said and he left, he didn't pause, he didn't look back. If he did he would return to her.

Gabriel got on a transport for earth that day.

X

Michael found it surprising how easily she focused her sadness back to rage. She ended up in the gym more often than not. Tilly would keep her company but she knew when she shouldn't press her luck in asking about Captain Lorca.

Instead of using her sadness she smothered it, opting to channel her rage to make her stronger. Rebuilding her walls, creating an impregnable fortress in which to surround herself. She got back into the habit of meditating for hours on end, focusing her sorrow to a pointed blade.

When her reassignment orders came through, she was placed on another science vessel, this time with no ulterior motive or questionable experiments. She was both relieved and saddened she would not set foot on Discovery again. She was a fine ship, not just because she was new. But because of what they had been through together. She had found her work never to be mundane, always fulfilling with new challenges she had never foreseen.

But it was... Discovery would memories she would rather not remember now.

A slightly older vessel named the _Hecate,_ she had seen her fair share of skirmishes and battles. She had been given an overhaul with new decks, shield plating, a new science lab and sickbay.

Michael had brought her personal affects on board, she had her own quarters again as First Officer. The room wasn't like on Discovery, more closely resembling the Shenzhou.

Unpacking, she reminded herself she had dinner with Tilly in two hours. Plenty of time to get to know the ship.

"Excuse me?" She turned upon hearing the voice, a tall man, nearly platinum blonde hair and blue eyes so dark they almost looked black, he reminded Michael of a much younger Stamets.

"First Officer Burnham?" The man asked and she nodded. He approached her and held out his hand.

"Science Officer Duval." Michael shook his hand and tilted her head.

"Pleased to meet you."

"I've heard a lot about you, what you did on the Discovery. I'll be happy to take any direction or suggestion from you, coming from where I'm standing." He smiled.

As Michael observed him closer she realized... well, he wasn't exactly a _him_ or...

"Pardon me but... may I ask a personal question?" She asked and Duval shrugged.

"Oh, First Officer, we've only just met." Duval joked and she couldn't help but smile.

On closer inspection Duval's skin was incredibly pale with a hint of color rising from their neck to end at their jawline, a pale pinkish hue. Their eyes were indeed the darkest blue she had ever seen, yet Duval's pupils weren't black but amber.

"You are a Dyad, are you not?" She asked and Duval nodded.

There it was... they were neither male nor female.

"I am indeed. One of the last, but," Duval leaned closer, still holding her hand, to whisper in her ear. "Don't go around telling anyone." They winked.

Duval was certainly charming that was for sure. But as a xeno anthropologist Michael already knew that.

The Dyad were a species on the brink of extinction. It wasn't like the Gormagander, indeed the Dyad were seen as very promiscuous and strangely their DNA could be coupled and complemented with most other species; it learned to adapt to change and rewrite its own biology depending on what new species it encountered or was introduced to.

No, the reason for the near elimination of the Dyad species was, ironically, overpopulation. Their planet became so overpopulated they had to abandon it, from there they scattered to different corners of the galaxy, seeking refuge where they could. On their behemoth generational ships they encountered hostile species, thousands upon thousands of Dyads were slaughtered in one armed battles.

That's when the Federation interfered. But by the time the UFP got involved more than half of the species were killed.

When they were given refuge on earth or other Federation based colonies, other species, including humans, didn't know what to make of them. They were neither singularly male or distinctively female. They, to put it bluntly, possessed both sexes physically and could alter them at will. They had grown beyond gender and identity.

Despite this, their society had worked extremely well. According to the elders of their world who hadn't been killed after their mass exodus, they had once possessed what other alien races would call seperate genders. But eventually they had evolved, simply living with and without it.

Michael reaccumulated all of this data in her meeting with Duval. They were pleasant, kind, polite, charming and Michael needed friends on the Hecate. She might as well start with the person she would be working closely with the most besides the captain.

The Captain of the Hecate was a woman named Ruth Colt. She was in her early forties and had brought and seen the Hecate through the worst of her bouts with the Klingons during the war. She was a scientist at heart, however, not the berserker Lorca had been.

Captain Colt asked to speak to Michael as well as the rest of her senior officers two days before they were to depart from Starbase 36.

"Alright, I'm sure you've all become acquainted by now." She said, pushing her short blonde hair behind her eyes, holding a tablet and scrolling through it. "But, just for fun and because the brass want me to I'll read off your name, rank and you say 'here', just like in school."

Captain Colt had a sarcastic way about her, she attempted to have her crew follow the rules by turning them into a joke: "I know it's stupid but it's protocall and I don't like doing it but come on, just do it for me", that was one of her signature lines.

Michael thought it was a counter productive tactic but it worked. By conveying her own distaste for something mandatory and redundant, Captain Colt was also convincing her crew to follow suit. If your Captain found the orders and procedures onerous but did it anyway, well damn it, you could too.

"Burnham, First Officer," Colt began primly.

"Here." Michael answered.

"Fairbanks, Security."

"Here."

"Duval, Science Officer."

"Present and accounted for." Duval replied.

"Sheerer, Chief of Engineering..."

Colt continued, the meeting went on for another hour. They went over the duty roster, to which the captain made sure to go over every detail with Michael. She informed Michael who worked best with whom, who didn't, who hated each other, the gossip and scuttlebutt on the ship.

They walked through the corridors together, talking and getting to know each other.

"I don't like gossip, Burnham, frankly I'm too damn old for it," Colt said as they moved through the ship, people working and nodding to their captain. Michael had the impression Colt was very well liked. She reminded Michael of someone...

"I know you've had a rough year and a half," Colt said sympathetically. "I'm not unfeeling to your plight, however, I would like to address something."

They came to engineering.

"My affair with Captain Lorca." Michael said bluntly and Colt smiled and nodded.

"It got around pretty quick. Will it be an issue if, say, some hot headed cadet or another senior officer decided to use it against you?"

Michael kept up with her captain, they spoke briefly to Sheerer who hurried away to perform last minute tests.

"Absolutely not." Michael assured her new captain, she nodded.

"Good. Come on, it's not a big ship but there's still plenty you haven't seen."

In the transportation room Michael familiarized herself with the older controls, only out of date by three or four years but they were currently undergoing modifications.

"You know I," Colt paused, leaning against the transporter module. "I graduated with Philippa Georgiou."

Michael's breath caught in her throat, she looked down and away.

"We weren't extremely close but- ya know, lab partners here and there. We followed each others careers, we were... a little competitive with each other like that." She laughed sadly.

Michael smiled and finally looked up.

"The last time we spoke was, god, years ago. But she mentioned this new first officer from Vulcan. She was excited about you, Burnham. I hope more people have told you that about her."

Michael lied and said yes.

"Honestly, Burnham, I don't care who you've slept with or why, I just want that first officer at my side that Philippa was bragging endlessly about," Colt said coming towards her. "I want the officer Captain Lorca got hell for from the brass to make sure she stayed on his ship. If you can give me fifty percent of what you gave them, I think we'll have a very fruitful relationship together on the Hecate."

Colt touched Michael's shoulder in a motherly way, it reminded her of Amanda. Colt was trying to be inspiring, supportive, motivating and honestly it worked. It's what Michael needed right now.

"I won't disappoint you, Captain." Michael said proudly.

"I know you won't. Now come on, you haven't met our resident doctor and honestly, you'll wish you hadn't by the end of it."

Michael laughed and followed her captain out. For the first time since stepping onto the Hecate she wasn't sad or dreading leaving Starbase 36 and the Discovery. Instead, she now found herself looking forward to her new adventure, a new purpose. Michael knew from personal experience after a setback, after pain, you needed to accept and cherish the little victories, no matter how minute they might be.

This was a victory, this day, this moment. This Captain, was a victory. She fancied herself lucky. Or perhaps Admiral Cornwall put in a good word. Either way, luck or fate, or a letter of recommendation, Michael looked at her future on the Hecate as promising instead of another exile.

X

"No, no, no, _this_ is not pie." Duval said disgustedly, pushing their plate away and grimacing. Michael frowned and poked her own dish.

"Damn replicators," Duval said. "We get upgrades of all kinds but god forbid they give us new, decent replicators."

Michael couldn't help but chuckle, the Dyad was certainly persnickety about their food. She had taken lunch and dinner with them three times this week and every time the food was never up to their standards. Eventually, Duval ate it.

Crossing their arms over their chest and leaning back in the chair, Duval sighed and groaned.

"What now?" Michael asked, sipping her water.

"Nothing." They said simply, shrugging their shoulders in a flippant manner.

"Is it Lt. Li?" Michael asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You put that eyebrow back where it belongs, Burnham." Duval threatened lightly.

Michael chuckled at her friend's prudishness, she had been that way once too. Totally unavailable to talk about intimate matters without becoming embarrassed. But it wasn't so much that Duval was embarrassed, they just didn't understand why Lt. Li had given them the brush off.

"You think I'm good looking, right?" Duval asked, for someone who was as attractive as they were it amazed Michael how insecure they could be.

"Of course." Michael answered, taking another bite of her salad.

"It is the pink? Damn it, I can't change the color of my skin." Duval said, over analyzing and over thinking. Again.

"It's not the pink." Michael argued.

"Then what? Why doesn't he like me?"

"Maybe... he just doesn't understand."

"Understand what?" Duval asked, clearly not understanding what Michael was getting at.

"Maybe Lt. Li is only interested in human females." Michael said gently. Duval scoffed.

"I'm both, damn it, so what's his problem?"

"Maybe he doesn't want both."

Duval buried their face in their hands and sighed.

"Humans. You've come so far but you still choose one sex over the other."

"Some people are like, Duval. Sometimes we can't help but prefer one over the other."

Duval tapped a finger to their chin, they had a small cleft and they rubbed it thoughtfully, staring at Michael in curiosity.

"What about you?" Duval asked and Michael paused her chewing.

"Me?" She asked around lettuce. Duval nodded and she swallowed. "I've only been with men- or... a man."

"Oh right, your former captain." Duval said, not as an insult or a jab, just stating the fact.

"Yes."

"When was the last time you had sex?"

Michael thought about it.

"Two months."

"Want to?"

Michael set her fork down and shook her head.

"Thank you, Duval, but-"

"Why are you thanking me?"

"You seem to be taking pity on me for not having been intimate."

"Oh, I am, but I also find you attractive. What's wrong with friends helping friends."

Michael couldn't really argue with his logic. She hadn't been able to admit to anyone how... wound up she had become. After being able to have sex quite regularly with Captain Lorca and now that outlet was no longer available, her body was growing to miss the physical comfort and touch he had given her. But it was... it was a mental connection she missed as well.

"Why me?" Michael asked Duval.

"I believe I just told you. But if you need more convincing, you're intelligent, you're very sexy, I... I _love_ when you correct me." Duval said jokingly, winking at her.

"This is a bad idea." Michael said, rising to return her tray. Duval followed her.

"Why? Friends helping friends."

"We barely know each other."

"Longer than most people who sleep together." They argued.

"Is it because I'm... different?" Duval asked her point blank. Michael shook her head.

"No. I'm... certainly curious." She admitted.

"Then why?"

"Because... I was in love with the last person I slept with. I'm not in love with you, Duval."

"Then it will be a whole new experience."

With that Duval departed, leaving Michael feeling flushed. Duval was very attractive. Possessing not really the same macho maleness that had made her attracted to Gabriel, but there was a confidence she was drawn to in them. How unapologetically they were just... themselves. In their eccentricities, their mood swings, their intelligence, their respect.

Yes, there were many qualities Michael found attractive about Duval that went beyond the physical overview of their biology. Michael understood how their mating practices worked. It was very... _thorough_. She felt her stomach flutter at the thought of kissing Duval. And she hadn't thought of kissing anyone but Gabriel.

It was an exciting feeling at first, until she felt like she was being disloyal. Like she was... cheating on him. But that was a silly idiotic thought to have, she reminded herself. They weren't together, they were light years apart. She didn't want to think about what sordid, drunken business he was getting up to.

X

The fact was that Gabriel Lorca, former captain of the Buran and the Discovery, was not drunk. He threw himself into the mundane work of teaching, coping with the absence of Michael by devoting every single moment he had to his new position. The students were as he expected, but there was less innocences about them. The war had created orphans and parentless children, single parent households and wartorn veteran mothers and fathers.

These were the children of war; many whom had signed up as soon as the story of the Battle of the Binary Stars got back to earth. They were eager, ready for action, _children_... and that was almost worse than a naive, coddled youth.

Now they were trigger happy teenagers and young adults. Patiences could be taught, unlike instinct. But you first needed a little bit of that precious ingredient before you actually baked the cake.

Of course when Gabriel had tried to use such an analogy, one student couldn't help themselves, piping up and adding with verve, "that's why we have replicators". The internal and external groan and headache such a sentence had induced was nearly soul crushing.

Among his many students, there was one that seemed to stand out. He had always thought that was a myth, that the student who stood out was just the brown noser, the teacher's pet. But Cadet Garcia was different. He was very studious, barely spoke, but was a very natural team leader. He observed with his eyes and his mind, patient and kind. But there was a temper lurking below the surface, the way his foot and knee would tap during Gabriel's lectures was a dead giveaway. Or the way he seemed to bite the inside of his cheek when a student answered incorrectly, when it was obviously was the answer was.

One day after class, Gabriel couldn't help himself and asked him how his studies were going.

Carlos shifted on his feet, holding his satchel close.

"It's fine. Everything is fine." Carlos had assured Gabriel, but the older, seasoned captain wasn't buying it.

"Walk with me." Gabriel had said.

Moving through the halls of Starfleet Academy brought back many memories. He saw the classroom he and Kat had first kissed in, the turbolift he had sabotage during Prank Week. The wise eyes of Professor T'Lo drilling into him the philosophies of Surak.

"What's troubling you? You seem distracted lately." Gabriel said, they walked across a well gardened path.

"Homesick." Carlos answered, in his shy way.

"Is it a girl?" Gabriel asked, not really thinking it was about a silly crush, but when Carlos' eyes averted to anywhere but his professor and he flushed rightfully, Gabriel knew he was on the right track.

"Ah, let me guess: you think she doesn't know you exist." Gabriel said, with a smile and a grimace.

Carlos sighed.

"No. She knows. She's just... I can't think of what to say when we talk or... when _she_ talks." Carlos said, frustratedly. "I just stand there looking and feeling dumb."

"Trust me, Carlos, you're anything but dumb. Can I ask who it is?"

"You'll laugh at me."

Gabriel smiled, he probably would if he was Carlos' age. But time did a lot to a man. You realized after actually being in love and losing it, more than once, that in the end it wasn't a laughing matter. It didn't matter how old you were, love should be taken seriously.

"Come on." Gabriel pressed.

With another sigh Carlos finally spilled the beans.

"It's Cadet T'Mari."

Gabriel stopped without thinking.

"Cadet T'Mari?" He questioned, looking around as if providence had decided to smack him in the face.

"I know, she's Vulcan and _way_ out of my league." Carlos chided himself.

"Really? Sorry. Look, Carlos..." He took a breath trying to find the right words. "Vulcan women are... well they're still women it doesn't matter which way you slice it. You're only intimidated because of her species. But that's also a good place to start. She's not going to be wooed the same way a human would."

Carlos thought on this.

"So... no flowers?" He asked tentatively. Gabriel chuckled.

"Let's start with things she likes. What other classes does she have?"

"We have Astronomy together. And when we've studied in her dorm she's got a lot of star systems mapped out."

"I think that's a good place to start. Suggest some kind of an outing- _don't_ call it stargazing. That implies it's a date. Think of it this as... research. You're just getting to know her and getting to know her interests."

"But... I'm human."

"So?"

Carlos hadn't seemed to have ever thought of that before. Gabriel could see the wheels in his young mind turning. It didn't matter they were different species. It didn't matter their background. It didn't matter that through this whole conversation all Gabriel wanted to do was send a message to Michael.

If he was a believer in fate and signs then he would've gone back to his quarters and sent her a deep space transmission. But... he had never been a believer.

Watching Cadet Garcia run off, inspired and with a little pep in his step, warmed Gabriel's heart in a way he hadn't really felt before.

 _You're going soft, old man,_ he reprimanded himself.

Returning to his own room he threw his jacket over the back of a chair, staring at his computer, it blankly staring back at him. He paced for several minutes. He had no right to contact her. They hadn't spoken since he left for earth.

What in the hell would he say?

X

 _Incoming transmission from earth,_ flashed across Michael's computer screen while she did her daily duty roster checkup. Without thinking, she swiped it to open, still not looking up from her tablet.

" _Hey,"_ she jumped at the voice, startled and shaken and rising from her chair, dropping the tablet to the floor. She pressed paused. Seeing Gabriel's face after six months of silence was... daunting. She felt her stomach flutter, her eyes watered.

Pressing a hand over her mouth she rubbed as if to scrub away their last kiss, as if it had just taken place. She could feel his hands on her suddenly.

 _Delete it,_ she told herself.

Why was he contacting her now? To grovel, to beg for forgiveness most likely. To plead with her to come back. The message was only thirty five seconds long.

Maybe he was sick? If he was dying she'd like to know. Maybe...

She sat down again, picking her tablet up, rearranging little things on her desk as if he could see it in real time. She sighed, took a breath, released it.

Michael pressed play, her eyes watering again against her will. She wanted to hold him. He looked rested, but his eyes looked sorrowful.

" _Hey, so I know this is... bullshit, really. I know you'll probably think about deleting this. I wouldn't blame you. I just... I thought about you today and it hurt. And that's my fault. Don't feel bad for me. In fact, karma is a funny thing, I slipped in the shower yesterday,"_ Michael couldn't help but laugh at that, he was smiling too as if he were right there. " _So, I got mine. Don't feel like you have to respond, you don't. I just... missed you more than usual today. I hope you're safe. Bye."_

The recorded transmission ended and she watched it again and again. It pulled her to sleep. She wanted to be angry, all the fury she had stored up seemed to release itself from her.

Shore leave awaited the whole crew in two weeks.

Michael recorded a message, but she would make him wait until morning before.

 **AN: Still no smut? Sorry again but this is the direction it's going in. I hope you still don't mind a little bit of plot. But... who knows what happens on shore leave, right? ; )**


	8. PART EIGHT: Give Your All to Me

PART EIGHT

Give Your All to Me...

" _You're my downfall, you're my muse_

 _My worst distraction, my rhythm and blues."_

John Legend, All of Me

" _First officer's personal log, I have settled into my temporary quarters on earth as the Hecate is docked for repairs. We encountered very little hostile Klingon interference and had a fairly effortless journey home. Officer Duval elected to travel to Tuscany to visit an old friend from the academy, Captain Colt is excited to see her nieces before Christmas, which is... one week away. I find myself distracted from this yuletide glee, on Vulcan there was no mention or celebration of Christmas. Upon my assignment to the Shenzhou I participated in a Secret Santa. Philippa always said my gifts lacked the_ personal touch _._

 _This is a different kind of Christmas, however. Captain Lorca-_ Gabriel _\- waits for me. I'm nervous to see him. I'm... angry, sad and hopeful. I'm having a better understanding of these emotions and yet they still haunt and elude me. I had hoped with understanding would come some semblance of order. But that is not the case. We are having dinner... that is all. That is all I want. That is all..._ no _. That is not all I want, nor is it all that I need. I..."_

Michael deleted her log entry and sighed, staring at herself in the mirror. She wore the same black cocktail dress she wore the night Starbase 36 had it's party. She had no other dresses to wear, she could've replicated one but... she had put sentimental value on this particular garment.

And... she already knew how it affected him. She clenched her thighs at the thought, her stomach fluttering and her cheeks flushing.

Breathing in and out, she applied the faintest amount of tan lip gloss, nearly wiping it away. But she decided against it. He would be expecting the same old Michael Burnham. The hesitant, nervous, virgin he had seduced with his experience and... well, Soldier Thing, as Tilly would have put it.

But that was not the only reason they had been drawn together. No, there had been many factors, many variables and ingredients that had formed and concocted such a culmination.

Together, they were well-balanced, synced and in tune. They didn't need to finish each other's sentences, they simply knew. They felt, they sensed... it was as if he were another half of her. A limb she couldn't live without, one she hadn't known she had been missing. Her second brain, her other soul, her twin and her moon. The way he held her in sway and in orbit, it was indescribable.

Michael now knew what so many poets, lovers and artists had tried to say for more than a millenia. For as long as there were people capable of emotion, there was an ineffable and sublime pull towards the need and want to love. To give, to receive such affection, should not be taken for granted.

But Michael didn't want to get ahead of herself. He had said he missed her, and she...

" _Dear Gabriel, I have recorded this seven times. That old adage of 'third time's a charm' is inaccurate, at least in my case. I am safe. I am... happy, as happy as I can be given the circumstances. At first your message was unwanted, it was cruel in it's own way. But I cannot deny that I have longed to hear your voice. I will deduce you know that my ship will be given shore leave in two weeks. If, during that time, you miss me again perhaps we could have food- dinner,_ **dinner** _."_

Michael ended it there and pressed send, not wanting to try another attempt. She had felt discouraged but confident after some time. She hadn't told anyone she was meeting Gabriel. He had responded, but he had also made _her_ wait as she had made him wait. She found herself enjoying this game.

For their messages became more frequent with shorter lapses in time between them.

And when their messages turned to a _different_ nature, it had been Michael who had initiated it.

" _I am happy to hear you have taken to teaching so well. Please continue to be patient with them, naivete is something to be cherished, not looked down on._

 _I had a dream about you, not really a dream. Just impressions, imprints of color, feelings..._ tastes _. I look forward to seeing you."_

The truth was, Michael hadn't really meant it to sound sexual, per say. She had simply felt comfortable in sharing, truthfully, what she was feeling. She had always felt that way with him. From the moment they had met, there had been this instantaneous silent understanding between them.

" _Good morning, sweetheart- can I still call you that? I recall you enjoying it. I am taking these kids in strides. They're challenging. There seems to be a slight lack of empathy. I'm attempting to make them see their opponent as also living instead of a moving target. It's important to remember you're not fighting simulations when you're out there... but you know that. I miss you too, sweetheart. What other dreams have you had?"_

" _Dear Gabriel, empathy cannot always be taught and sometimes there is such a thing as too much empathy. Should they care too much to take a life, they may freeze and not take that shot, but I'm surprised I have to tell_ you _that._

 _They're Starfleet, not soldiers. I learned that the hard way. We both did._

 _They're not true dreams; daydreams more like. When I'm working, when I'm exercising, meditating. You seem to find your way into my mind regardless of location or activity. I've missed you calling me sweetheart... I've missed your... hands,_ (she had sighed) _and the feeling of you beside me. In- I need to get back to work."_

Michael knew what she had wanted to say...

 _Inside me._

This was getting out of hand and was highly inappropriate. It was confusing her. They weren't a couple, hadn't really ever been one, but... why were they exchanging messages of this nature? This was beyond flirtation, this was... it felt like a signal. Of what kind or definition she couldn't place.

The messages were taking on a life of their own. Michael waited with bated breath for each new word from him. She cherished them, replayed them over and over again...

 _Fantasized_ with them in her mind.

" _Hey, sweetheart, it sounded like there was something you wanted to say in your last message. You can tell me, its ok. Today I jogged five miles and nearly died, not literally but I'm definitely feeling age. I thought about you the whole time,_ thought _about you more when I got back too,_ (he had chuckled then and looked away and she had felt herself flush considerably) _but we'll see each other soon. When you come back, I want to take you to this nice place on the bay. It's very quiet and we can have privacy and talk. Of course you'll attract a crowd, given that you're unfairly beautiful. How are those dreams?"_

It was nearly Michael's undoing. The way he was so gentle while attempting to pry the information out of her.

The subtext was blatant: _Tell me you miss me inside of you, fucking you into forgetfulness, making you cum until it hurts._ _ **Savaging**_ _you to your heart's content._

Michael made him wait a full twenty four hours. One part because she wanted to make him continue to desire her, heavily, from afar, second part: because she was too busy fucking herself. And the lag contributed it's part as well.

" _My dreams are quite..._ colorful _, if you must know. Extremely vivid. They have been distracting me from my important duties. Captain Colt had to say my name three times yesterday on the bridge due to this aberration. I hope you are quite pleased with yourself, Captain Lorca. You have succeeded in both aiding_ and _sabotaging me. I am thrilled to hear that you_ think _of me so frequently. I hope you have not been terribly lonely."_

" _Terribly lonely? I can't say that it's terrible but it's not ideal. My mood has certainly improved since we've begun our correspondence."_

That was it. Michael had frowned when the message had abruptly ended. She checked the time on it to make sure it wasn't a mistake. No, it was only fifteen seconds long. He did that on purpose, for making him wait so long. She gritted her teeth, he was ever the strategist.

She would not act desperate in this strange game of tomcat and field mouse.

Which is exactly why Michael decided to record her next message before her jog; in her sports bra and running shorts.

" _I am happy to hear you are coping so well."_

Short, bittersweet, scathing...

Radio silence followed for a merciless three days. Michael checked her computer religiously, but there was no message. She wondered if he was doing the same. Most likely. Together, on seperate sides of the galaxy, they were pacing, observing their technological devices with contempt.

 _Why weren't they responding? Did something happen? Is this still part of the game we started playing before we even knew it had begun?_

Gabriel was the first to break the silence.

" _You win."_

Michael had smiled broadly, pressing a finger between her teeth, biting gently at the small but important victory. It was highly satisfying. It grativated her ego, stoked her confidence in ways she didn't know were possible. She had believed you should be responsible for your own personal happiness, your own confidence. That you should not rely on others for it. But this... this was different.

Michael felt empowered as a woman. That he longed, hungered and desired her beyond reason was nearly overwhelming at times. That she instilled that in him, in a man like _him_ , was a truly robust, bombastic feeling.

" _Do you want me?"_

Michael wanted more from him, deeper, wanted him to tell her in his own, vulgar way that he did, want her.

" _You have no idea, sweetheart. But I hope you know it's not just_ that _, that I want."_

Christ, the one time she basically asks him to describe it to her and he sidesteps her once again. But Michael had no patience for subtly or subtext.

" _Tell me what you want."_

The lag between messages was the worst part. The hours and minutes of waiting, the closer they came to earth the less the lag became. But it was too much to wait most of the time. They both tried to distract themselves in the meantime but it rarely worked.

" _I want to kiss your cunt."_

Those six words were what made Michael's legs quiver with each passing step. She descended a small staircase into the restaurant. The whole place was streamed with soft twinkle lights, a soothing atmosphere, quaint, fanciful... romantic.

They had never had a date before. There had never been time. There had been too much fear of being caught, found out, turned out; a war going on in the middle of it didn't help either.

Well, all that had happened anyway. Now, they were free. Free to explore whatever it was that lay between them. A whole new adventure, just for them.

Gabriel wore a simple black suit, no tie. They even matched. She smiled out of the corner of her mouth as she released a shaky breath. He was really standing there, in front of her.

 _I want to kiss your cunt._

Those words hung in the air; they both knew he had said them, now they embraced like old friends, he even pecked her on the cheek. The subtext was heady. The anticipation gruelling. She wanted him to say the words out loud, instead he made small talk, which she hated.

Instead he ordered a wine she wasn't familiar with. She didn't drink, but tonight was special.

"Is that new?" Gabriel's question cut through the dizzy turbulence in her mind.

"I'm sorry?"

"Your lips." He said, bringing up a finger to gesture to his own.

Michael swallowed and looked away for a moment, picking up a glass of water. Gabriel placed a hand over her own.

 _No, you're supposed to be seducing him,_ Michael reminded herself.

"Relax, it looks nice." He told her gently.

"Thank you." Michael said, steadily.

She placed a hand over his, realizing a little too late it reminded her of when they met at the bar on Starbase 36... the day he broke her heart.

But she saved face, smiling coyly and scooting an inch closer to him in the booth.

"I like the place you've chosen," Michael remarked, breaking eye contact and glancing about.

"Yeah, I came here a few times when I was much younger." He said with a sigh, an air of reflection.

"With a woman?" She asked him. He smiled, looking away and then back at her.

"Yes." He answered honestly.

"So it's what worked before." She stated simply. He shrugged a little.

"It's helped."

Their wine arrived and she sipped it lightly, it was white and soft. Not overbearing or robust like a strong red.

"Have you loved many women, captain?" Michael asked him, she felt strangely comfortable asking him about his past relationships; if you could call them that. She also liked calling him 'captain', even though he would never captain a starship again. She tried to not imagine him amongst the stars; he belonged there in the end, with her.

Gabriel seemed a little taken aback by her question, but when he noticed her ease he answered,

"A few, but..." he paused. "It was a different time."

"Can you elaborate?"

"What has Captain Colt instilled in you all of the sudden?" He asked with a chuckle, deflecting.

An obvious tactic to avoid the question.

"She has instilled in me a more finite approach." She answered.

"And what's that?"

"That there's no point in being uncomfortable talking with those who give you serenity."

The compliment was not lost on him; _serenity..._ that's how she felt about him? He had hurt her so badly and yet he gave that to her. His eyes searched her own; how very alike they were. Not in shape or color, but in depth. In the power they held, the secrets they guarded. The pain they bore through despite the smiles on their faces.

"I was a younger man when I was in love for the first time," he finally relented, there was no point in trying to pivot now, not with her. "We made plans, we- _I_ \- broke plans. I wanted the chair, I wanted... glory."

Michael watched how his face seemed to gleam with regret. He traced the bottom of his wine glass with his fingertips. The thought of his illicit statement from his earlier message seemed to release itself from her mind. She wanted to know him, in every way. They only had two weeks.

"Who was she?" Michael asked. He sighed deeply.

"Admiral Cornwall." He watched her face for reaction. It was surprise at first then it was understanding.

"You hurt her and she's never forgotten."

"She's forgiven. It never would've worked in the end."

"Why?"

"Career versus love, career puts a bullet in love's head every time."

The dinner progressed from there and soon the inches dividing them disappeared, both literally and figuratively.

The gentle touches their thighs made, Michael wasn't sure who initiated what, who was seducing whom. She didn't care anymore. Soon, his arm was resting on the booth behind her and she was leaning into him. His warmth was surrounding her, his scent, his very _him_. Everything that he was and ever would be was with her.

They were relaxed, allowing the wine to tranquilize them, work its way into their minds, into their marrow.

"It's getting late." He said, noticing the way he looked around the establishment with eyes that said he wasn't tired at all. That he was waiting her out, she was his prey again.

Good thing she brought her armor. She felt her stomach flutter, and she subconsciously clenched her thighs together and the place between her legs throbbed uncontrollably.

Michael was thinking of her next plan of attack when his hand touched her knee. It wasn't an accident, it wasn't subtle and it didn't end immediately. Bracing her hand on the table and the other on the stem of her wine glass, she met his eyes.

"Did you have a good time?" He asked her, his voice had lowered, his thumb making circles on her kneecap, the hem of her dress just sliding up ever so slightly with each pass.

"I did." She answered, her voice lowering to the same tone as his.

"What would you like to do now?" He was giving her either an out or he wanted to see if she would make the next move, his cards were already shown, his intent plain and simple.

 _I want to kiss your cunt._

"I want you to tell me what you said in your message." She told him, he leaned in again.

"Which message?" He was trying to coax it out of her again, he liked it when she said those... indecent things.

When she cursed or used vulgar language. It came naturally to him, but he had to force it out of her. And she liked it, trying to work up the nerve and the courage to say what he wanted and she what she wanted.

It tickled her, it challenged her. And she liked a challenge.

"You know which one." It was she now who was deflecting.

"Say it." He ordered it, and it shook her to her core. She felt her womanhood flood, her eyes felt heavier. She hadn't heard him use that voice in months... the same voice he used when he once told her to, " _take off your fucking clothes"_.

"I want you... to tell me what you-" she cleared her throat, she almost looked around to see if anyone was still close enough to hear what she wanted to say, but she didn't break away, but she dropped her voice even lower, however. "What you want to do to my..."

Gabriel squeezed her knee, then it traveled up to her thigh and she stifled a gasp.

"I want to kiss it." He finished for her, knowing how difficult it was for her, but did she have any idea how hard it made him?

How those infinitesimal mewls, the way she was so seductively demure and yet powerfully confident. He had seen her be utterly fearless; in the face of danger and the unknown. He had watched from another vessel as she had helped destroy the Ship of the Dead. She had faced Kol in hand to hand combat, a seasoned warrior twice her size.

When Gabriel had seen her after her transport, when she had walked onto the bridge battered and bloodied he had wanted to tell her then, how much he wished she knew she meant to him. How he would have faced a whole army of Klingon warriors for her... but now, she was as timid and proud as she had been their first night together.

How their combination created such a scorching cocktail of base and depraved animal emotion, how insanely muddled his mind became around her. How she undid him and unmade him with a bat of her eyelashes or the beginnings of a smile.

Leaning in, Gabriel whispered in her ear, and with each word his hand moved higher... closer to the apex of her thighs.

"I want to be gentle with you," he began, his lips and breath moving down her neck in waves of splendid, soft heat. "But that's for later, when you're out of breath and weak and can't move anymore. When you're raw and can't talk because you're hoarse," he paused when he reached the tight space where her legs were still pressed together.

He moved back a few inches to look into her eyes, they were heavy and her hand now clutched the fabric of the table cloth, wrinkling it.

"Open your legs," he told her and when she didn't he narrowed his eyes, her defiant little chin sticking out, her lips parted. But he knew what kind power he had over her, just as she knew the power she had over him. "I said, _open your legs_ , Burnham."

No sooner had the words left his lips did her thighs part the barest amount. He wasted little time in leading his fingertips where he longed them to be the most. And she was _**saturated**_. Aching, it was leaking from her and he delicately stroked only her swollen clit.

"Good girl." He told her and she inhaled sharply, unable to cope with the way he touched her after it had been so long. "Oh, _sweetheart_ , I'm sorry."

Michael nodded quickly.

Gabriel meant it, as he watched her eyes flutter close, unashamed, as her bottom lip quivered, as her body trembled; missing him, _**needing**_ him. Missing her, missing him. And he was so very sorry.

Michael leaned her forehead against his, he kissed her cheek gently. Different from the friendly, flirty peck he gave her at the beginning of dinner. This was loving, this was " _I'm here, I'm back, I need you._ "

"Get me out of here." She begged him, opening her eyes, and he stroked her more urgently.

Michael's eyes widened, her breath hitched and she released the tablecloth to grip his forearm, hard.

"Gabriel-"

"I want you to cum right here." He told her, his voice rough and brittle, like a branch ready to be released from an old tree.

"I... I can't." She told him crucially.

" _ **Please**_ , I can't wait."

"I need _more_." She whispered hotly, her words on the heels of his own.

Gabriel couldn't help but break his lips into a crooked grin. Like a cheshire cat, drunk and lustful. He knew what she needed, what she thought she needed. But she could, he knew she could. He wanted to see her face as she broke apart under only his fingertips, over her damp panties. He needed to see it, he _had_ to see it.

"You'll have more, later, when you're under me and my cock is deep inside your cunt," he promised and he practically felt another wave of wetness coat the inside of her panties, now spreading across the insides of her thighs. Her underwear was practically soaked entirely.

He was practically sore from how hard he was, his cock straining against his trouser front, desiring to be planted as deep inside of her as it could. He wanted to stroke himself, offer some kind of relief to himself. But he wanted this to be more about her.

Gabriel knew he could get it out of her, he checked to make sure no one was looking, even though deep down he didn't care. But he cared for Michael.

Thankfully, he chose this table for it's privacy and this area of the restaurant was practically deserted.

"You're... a monster." She said in a breathy voice.

He smirked and played along.

"I know. I'll eat you alive. Every. _Last._ _ **Drop**_. Every morsel you have to offer."

"Oh... god."

"You're close, I can feel it. The way your panties stick to your pussy-"

"-Gabriel"

"The way I bet it feels empty without my-"

Michael gasped loudly, slamming her hand into the booth, making a resounding wet smack because her palm had grown so sweaty.

Her body jerked gently against his own, she was trying to hide her orgasm. Her sweet, messy peak, the scent permeating the area around them. Encompassing them together. Kissing her temple, he slowly removed his hand, not realizing how hard she had been clutching it with her thighs. He slyly adjusted himself in his trousers.

Michael watched as he raised his fingertips to his mouth and licked the tips fluidy, as if he were savoring it like he did his wine and his meal.

"I need to... use the restroom." She said without looking at him.

"I'll meet you outside."

They went their separate ways, for now.

Michael splashed cold water on her cheeks and removed her underwear, unsure of what to do with them, so she threw them away. Her little black dress had worked again. They had had sex many times before, but she never cum from strictly clitoral stimulation alone. The experience was exhilarating but she yearned for more.

When she left the restaurant she met him outside, he was waiting by an automatic taxi.

"Where to?" He asked her, once more throwing the ball into her court.

"I'm assuming you live on campus and I wouldn't want there to be any talk." She told him, having composed herself.

"Your place?" He suggested and she slipped into the taxi.

"Yes."

X

When they arrived Michael turned on a small lamp that rested on a table near the door, a gentle light for his damaged eyes.

"Can I offer you something to drink?" She asked him, as purely a formality, and she was surprised when he nodded, half expecting him to simply tear her clothes off and have his way with her. She was a little disappointed.

"Just water." He told her, she fetched it from the kitchenette while he lounged on the Starfleet issue sofa.

Michael handed him the glass and sat down beside him, not knowing what to do with herself as he drank it all.

"I love what you've done with the place." He said.

"They all look like this." She answered simply. Gabriel laughed and she realized he had been making a joke.

"Don't be embarrassed," he said and he placed the glass on the coffee table. "You shouldn't be, after _that_."

"That was... different."

"I was worried it was too much."

"No."

A natural pause followed, Michael saw this as her opportunity. She placed her hand on his cheek and he closed his eyes, leaning down to kiss her wrist.

Michael couldn't wait any longer and she pulled him to her and kissed him, her lips already parted. She had waited so long to kiss him again. To feel his mouth quickly dominating her own, releasing all power and control to him. Forgetting logic and reason, accepting emotion and desire.

 _Passion._

Giving him no time to react bodily, she easily swayed herself onto him. Straddling his waist and cupping his hips with her own.

But he still held power over her as he controlled the movement of her hips with his hands.

Showing her, guiding her, as he always had done.

"Shit, Michael," Gabriel groaned as he kissed her neck, reaching underneath her dress, bunching it up to her waist, like the Starbase 36 tryst...

"Fuck, this goddamn dress." He grumbled, tightly winding the fabric in his hands. He chuckled, a dark smile painting his lips. "What happened to your panties, Burnham?" He questioned her, in his captain's voice that he knew made her shudder.

"I... discarded them." She answered, he slapped her ass without warning and she jerked.

"Why would you do that?"

"I... they were useless." That earned her another slap on the other cheek. The burn swept through her body, landing in her core.

Gabriel ground his cock into her bare cunt, the roughness of his trousers blinding her in a white hot frenzy.

"Maybe I wanted them," he taunted, the flesh of her ass held tight in his large hands. "Maybe I wanted to rip them off you. Next time, keep them on."

"Yes, captain." She made sure to use that title, she knew what it did to him in this queer little game of theirs.

"Good, Burnham. Now, take off my jacket."

Her hands were quick and pushed off his suit, she ran them down his chest and leaned in for another kiss, which he gave her but ended it quickly. He didn't want to indulge her too much too quickly, he didn't want her to get spoiled and become ungrateful.

"Unbutton my shirt."

And she did, slowly and with precise fingers. When it was gone she kissed his collarbone and he winced, but not from pain. He kissed her forehead.

"Good," he said quietly and she bit her bottom lip. He took her hand in his. "Now, take out my cock."

Michael froze and he gently stroked her back, his way of letting her know she didn't have to. When it had come to their intimacies, she had never actually touched his manhood, rarely looked at it. She had felt more intimidated by that part of him, one which she desired so much, than she had baring herself to him fully.

Gabriel sensed her trepidation.

"Hey, it's ok, you don't-"

"No. I... want to." She insisted. He nodded.

"You're ok?" He wanted to make sure.

"Yes. I promise."

With her assurance he reverted back to their game, where he was the dominant male teaching his pliable little student. He knew she wasn't totally naive, but even after everything, there was still new territory to discover.

"I believe I gave you an order, Burnham." He said firmly, guiding her hand down his chest, releasing it halfway for her to continue the journey alone. Another way of giving her an out if she wanted.

But Michael didn't stop. In fact, she kept her eyes firmly at his midsection, watching her hand as it moved down the expanse of him before resting over his hardness. Gabriel couldn't help the sigh of relief he let out when she cupped him, then moved her hand along his length.

"Ah, _**fuck**_ ," he whispered, his head leaning back against the couch for a moment, before he couldn't stand it and watched her hand, then watched her.

He had suddenly become tense, months of not being with anyone, especially her, had certainly made things difficult.

With nimble fingers she released his belt, the little metal sound it made doubled the wetness between her legs. The button slipped out of its hole, the zipper was pulled down over his rigid bulge. All the while his breathing became more intense, his chest rising and falling in short breaths.

Michael reached inside, her eyes coming up to meet his when her hand made contact with his hot, engorged flesh. Instinct made him nearly reach for her, but he pulled himself back.

 _No, it's her turn, she doesn't need my help,_ he reminded himself.

"Michael," he whispered her name and she licked her lips as she watched his face contort into sweet rapture as she released from him his trousers, holding his considerable cock in her small hand. The whiteness of him contrasted by her dark palm.

"Lick your hand," he ordered and she did, then he told her to stroke him. When she began again his hips jerked and he gripped her arm with one hand, his knuckles turning white. She scooted back down on his thighs to finally look down at him.

Michael couldn't help but stare, she had known he was large, well above average, but... that had been inside her all this time? No wonder there had been so much pain the first time.

As Michael stroked him, her thumb passed over the leaking tip and he moaned, his teeth clenching, then his upper lip curling into a snarl.

"Fuck," he grumbled, looking down to watch her.

Michael had thought she had felt empowered before, but now she literally held his manhood in the palm of her hand and she couldn't help but feel a swell of feminine pride. She wondered if this was how he felt, when he brought her to orgasm over and over again.

 _Yes, this is what that feels like,_ she decided.

Man or woman, it didn't matter. When you controlled their pleasure, when you knew you could make them feel this way with a single touch, it didn't fucking matter.

"Do you like that?" She whispered, leaning in to kiss his neck and his earlobe. He nodded.

"You know I do." He said to her, his hips still rising at times to meet her.

"Say it." She said strongly, their roles reversing for a split second in time.

"I like it." He answered without hesitation.

Michael increased her strokes and he groaned loudly, her hand tightening around his cock.

"Fuck, Michael," He was getting close. Fuck, he could feel it in his gut. Any second he was going to cum all over her hand, all over that pretty little "Come Fuck Me" dress. The little fucking cocktease was trying to kill him.

"I want you to cum." She said to him, almost like she was back to begging.

"Ah... fuck, Michael, I..."

"Please." She kissed him soundly on the last word.

"Stop. Please, stop." He said finally taking her wrist in his own hand, his breathing ragged and worn, his hands shaking. She frowned, confused.

"You... don't want to?" She asked him, worriedly. He shook his head quickly.

"No. It's just... sometimes it feels better to wait."

"To deprive yourself of pleasure?" She questioned. "That's counter productive."

Gabriel couldn't help but laugh.

"Not all the time." He told her before pecking her on the lips. His heart rate coming back to normal.

"I didn't hurt you." She said as he removed her hand.

"Far from it, I promise."

"Shall I perform oral sex?"

Gabriel coughed loudly at her question, absolutely shocked she of all people would suggest that let alone offer to perform such an act on him.

"You don't have to." He told her gently.

"I want to. I never have... and you're the only person I would want to do it to. Or with."

 _She really is trying to kill me,_ he thought.

When Gabriel didn't answer he saw the shift in her eyes and believed he would die when she slid down to her knees; the way the only sounds in the room were of her dress moving against the couch, their heavy breathing...

Taking a deep breath she held him in her hand and he sighed deeply again at the feeling of her.

"How shall I... proceed?" She asked shyly, the image of her on her knees between his spread legs nearly did him in. He had to refocus before answering. Guiding her verbally might be his undoing.

"Just... lick the tip and the shaft." He said and she nodded. He knew what she was thinking,

 _Right, I can do this._

Michael rested her palms on his thighs to balance herself, moving closer, performing the act as he instructed. The moment her wet, warm tongue touched the head of his cock he subtly gripped the arm of the sofa, squeezing the life from it if it had one.

Up and down, slowly, precisely, methodically, her tongue wickedly torturing him.

"Is that... good?" She asked, naturally stroking him as she spoke. He nodded.

"Now, just... take the tip into your mouth and- oh, _**fuck**_. Yes, like that... oh, ok now- _**Jesus.**_ "

If anyone had ever told him prior to his attraction and affection for her that Michael Burnham would not only be a natural at oral sex but also seem to enjoy it, well, he would have laughed in their face.

Gabriel watched her as she experimented with different techniques, attempting to see how much of his cock she could fit in her mouth. He felt her moan around him and he shuddered.

"Michael," he whimpered, helpless against her. She removed her mouth, halting her tantalizing torment, rising to her feet, there was blurry movement.

"I need you," she whispered against his lips, in his daze he hadn't noticed her remove her dress. Straddling him once more she gave him no warning as she sunk her aching cunt onto his waiting and eager cock. "Have me, take me, _**please**_."

Jerking his hips upward in sharp movements the air instantly left her lungs she clutched the back of the sofa for purchase. Each snap of his hips caused a wet slapping sound, his hand coming down to smack her ass and she whimpered in pain and pleasure.

"Did you like my cock in your mouth?" He whispered vulgarly against her neck, chest to chest; heart to heart. She nodded eaglery. "Yeah? You like being used like that, _**using**_ me?"

Michael ran her hands down his back and fought back her tears. It had been so long, she was sore, in pain, he had not used his fingers first. But she didn't care. She wanted the pain.

"Tell me you missed me." He ordered, putting his hand on her throat but not squeezing, like he had done before.

"I missed you." She said immediately.

"Tell me you love me." He said, kissing her cheeks.

"I love you. _I love you_."

"Your turn. Ride me." He said, without missing a beat and stilling his hips.

Bracing herself on the back of the sofa once more, she rose up and down in fluid motions, he grew angry at her bra and tore it off her, cupping her breast in his hand and bringing her hard peak to his mouth while pinching the other with his fingers.

"Good girl, ride my cock, that's it. You need to come, sweetheart?" He whispered against her chest, he felt her nod. Of course she did, the greedy little sprite.

"I want to cum, so badly, I... oh."

"I can make you cum, just little bit, right there. Remember this?" He stroked her clit the way she showed him once before and she increased her pace.

"That's it, don't stop... don't fucking stop." He ordered her again, his gruff voice sending shivers of pleasure throughout her body.

"Gabriel... I love you," she moaned again.

"I love you."

Gabriel gripped her hard against him so she was completely limp in his arms and pounded her sweet spot to his heart's content as she cried out in high, sharp whimpers. Her voice was beginning to leave her.

"Yes, I'm... cum _ming_." She told him and he allowed himself to release inside her as she came, wrapped around his cock like a fitted glove.

Michael convulsed against him for a short period and in turn he did the same. But they both gently wiped the sweat from one another's brow. They both planted innocent and loving kisses. They both provided tenderness the other required. Half naked, she entirely, he carried her to her bed.

Setting her on the edge he worked steadily around her, pulling the covers down, when a thought came to her.

"I think I need a shower." She simply suggested, vaguely and feigning tiredness.

Michael was preparing herself to be tucked in when he picked her up in his arms again.

"Where are you taking me?" She questioned.

"To the bathroom."

"It a only a suggestion-"

"No, no, it's a good idea before bed." He smiled kindly at her.

Gabriel turned the shower on the perfect temperature.

As he stood behind her under the warmth of the water, he ran his hands up and down her sides. She relaxed, leaning into him, shifted her hips ever so slightly. The reaction was explosive.

He caressed her breasts with soapy hands, tickled her neck with his breath and lover like kisses.

 _It's working..._ she thought madly.

And Michael couldn't help but lean back further into his embrace, feeling herself becoming slicker with the new sensations brought about by water running over his hands covering her breasts. She felt his hardness pressing into her from behind, seaking out her cunt.

"This... wasn't my plan." He admitted, mouthing her pulse point, grazing it with his teeth.

"No... it was mine." He stilled for a moment before smiling against her wet skin.

"Well played." He accepted defeat, she had done it well.

The soap was rinsed away but he still moved his hands along her body.

"How do you feel?" Gabriel asked her.

"Content. Happy. Loved." She answered, turning her head to kiss his jaw. "How do you feel?"

"Whole."

They made love in the bed after drying. She lay on her back, holding him in the natural cradle of her thighs. It was gentler, slower, a kinder way of sex they hadn't done before. They weren't fucking uncontrollably. They made love.

Gabriel maintained eye contact, he brought her to the edge and denied her bittersweetly. She moaned and begged for him to make her cum. The way she always ended up doing.

 _I would die for her,_ he thought in those moments of bliss.

"Cum inside me." She whispered in his ear when he warned of his approaching orgasm. He clutched her tighter, those three words sending him down into a tailspin.

Afterward, he watched her sleep a little before exhaustion took him. But before, as he lied there gazing at the beauty beside him, he rested his hand over her belly, sighing and kissing her temple before pulling her into his arms, spooning her and protecting her as he had before and as he longed to now and forever.

 **AN: Boom! SMUT! I hope you enjoyed it : ) I'm sorry I kept you guys waiting so long, I hope it was worth it.**


	9. PART NINE: I Give My All to You

PART NINE

I Give My All to You

" _You're my end and my beginning_

 _Even when I lose, I'm winning."_

John Legend, All of Me

Michael awoke to the sound of the shower splattering water against flesh and tile and the scent of body wash and coffee brewing. It was the perfect composite of scent and sound she had ever experienced. She quickly felt the stiffness in her joints and the soreness that decorated various parts of her body.

A yawn escaped her as she stretched her tired body, sitting up in the comfortable double bed, she adjusted the pillows and reclined backward.

It felt like waking in another life. They had never shared a morning so intimately before. As if they had lived here for years, as if this were a normal routine for them. A standardized ritual they had created together long ago.

Michael wanted to remain in bed but the temptress that was coffee beckoned her from the warmth it provided. She wrapped herself in a gray robe and made her way to the kitchenette where... she paused.

Two mugs, side by side, as if they had always been there waiting for her.

 _Waiting for us._

X

After spending the morning together, Gabriel eventually had to return to his classes. Thankfully he only had two this week what with holiday breaks coming up. Christmas and Hanukkah were still observed celebrations for many. He had excused his class when, through the many navy blue dressed cadets, appeared a familiar face. He hadn't seen Katrina since he left Starbase 36. She had tried to contact him but...

"You're looking well." He spoke first, she was walking fluidly again, no need for a cybernetic wheelchair any longer and of course she had aced her physical therapy.

"As are you. Merry Christmas." She said, her tone warm and friendly. He sighed.

It wasn't the longest they had gone without talking but it had been one of the more painful. He hadn't had anyone to talk to about his despair upon giving up Michael and he had wanted desperately to talk to Katrina. But he hadn't been able to bring himself to that.

"Are we still enemies?" She asked, leaning against his desk, her arms crossed over her chest.

Gabriel cracked a smile.

"I think we both know that's impossible." He said gently.

"I've missed you." She told him and she handed him a perfectly wrapped present, rectangle and thin. He had a pretty good idea what it was.

"If dad was still alive he'd kill you." Gabriel said opening the present, smiling broadly when he discovered he was right. Cigars, his dad's favorite, he personally prized them amongst many of his possessions and memories.

"Ed always loved me," Katrina said with fondness. "Are you going to see James?"

Katrina had tread these waters before; Gabriel had always had a rather... difficult relationship with his brother. Bordering on blind hatred. Two men had never been so alike that hated each other so much. But when their father died their relationship changed, but there was always that bitterness from their childhood and teenage years.

The endless competition, fueled only by themselves. For their parents love, to better than the other at sports or grades. In the end, one brother lost a leg and the other found his glory.

"Doubt I'll hear anything." He finally said.

"I always hated how you two would fight." Katrina said sadly. "And his pranks were... well, sleazy to say the least."

"Oh, I remember." He added with a sigh of regret.

"But he grew up. How's Michael?" Katrina asked and he groaned.

"So that's why you're here." He said, putting away his tablets in his satchel and flipping the lights to the classroom off. She followed him out.

"I'm asking as a friend." Katrina assured him. "I swear, Gabriel. She's beyond proven herself in Starfleet's eyes. We're not keeping tabs on her."

" _You're_ not. Terrell probably is." Gabriel countered. "Can't you- _they-_ just leave us in peace."

It wasn't a question, it was a hope. He was also tired of dodging the admiralty every second of his life now. He could only imagine what it felt like for Michael. His heart clenched at the thought. What the hell was his or Michael's sex life any of their concern now anyway?

They got what they wanted, he wasn't sitting in the chair. Michael had a leash but they left her by herself to run around in their big backyard. What the hell else did they want?

Starfleet had made them both castaways in some form or another.

"I assume you're planning on being together," Katrina said and he nodded. "Well long distance has never been your strong suit."

Gabriel clenched his jaw and moved to walk away again, she stopped him.

"You know," Katrina began gently. "In special circumstances spouses can join their significant other on deep space missions."

Gabriel frowned, what was the hell did that have to do with- she knew when it had sunk in.

"Really?" He went along and they began walking again, towards the canteen. "Is this new?"

"It is. But only on very special circumstances. An illness, pregnancy, etc... if you got married you could potentially join her on the Hecate when shore leave ends."

Gabriel suddenly felt very nervous, he hadn't been planning on proposing to Michael any time soon. But the thought had crossed his mind. He didn't want to be with anyone else. He loved her, from the tips of her wispy, curly hair to her fingerprints. All those things and more should have told him he wanted to marry her.

He didn't have many doubts she didn't want to marry him. But would she? Other factors, other variables. And if he was going to ask at all he wanted to do it right. But now, was there even _time_ to get it completely right?

"There's not enough..." he said out loud, trailing off.

"For what?" Katrina asked.

"To ask her father."

X

Gabriel made time. He couldn't fly to Vulcan and ask Sarek but he could request a private deep space audience with the ambassador. Throughout his career and his life, Gabriel's experience with Vulcans had been broad and extremely frustrating. It seemed only logical that he should fall in love with a human raised on the powerfully bright planet. His eyes would surely perish in their sockets if he ever stepped foot on Vulcan.

"Ambassador Sarek is in deep meditation," Amanda, Sarek's wife, explained. "I can deliver your message, Captain."

"Thank you. I would appreciate it, Ma'am, if you stressed the importance of it." He smiled, feeling the nervousness rising once again. She nodded.

"May I ask what it is about?" Amanda asked conversationally.

The bright Vulcan sun shining in behind through the holographic image forced him to squint a little. He stood a little straighter. He tried to shake the uncomfortable feeling of anxiety. He was a goddamn war and combat veteran, he was on the front lines of the Klingon war. His great grandfather had fought in the Romulan war and was a decorated war hero.

Licking his lips and clearing his suddenly dry throat he shrugged.

"Just... Starfleet... nonsense." He tried to hide the grimace from his face at his sudden lack of conventional and eloquent wording. Amanda wasn't buying it.

"I see. But it's important nonsense." She said and he found himself once again at an embarrassing loss for words. He only nodded, like a fucking idiot.

"Very well. I will pass on the information to Sarek." She said and she ended the transmission.

Gabriel groaned audibly and leaned his hands on his desk, he wondered if the perceptive woman had a clue. She most likely did. And if he knew married couples, _any_ married couple, she was going to tell him what she believed his intentions were.

Amanda Grayson could also boast that she was married to a Vulcan, and a man like that wouldn't have married _any_ human. He would have married a like minded individual, despite their separate species and differences.

Michael was out, she said she wanted some alone time. He wasn't bothered by it, he had to finish grading and the interlude with Katrina had figuratively concussed him.

The idea of marriage hadn't crossed his mind in a very long time. More than twenty years.

Everything had fallen together and apart in a matter of a few short years. First the accident, James growing resentful more than he ever was before, his leg gone. Then he had gotten away from it all, away from home and the burden of not being able to look his own family in the eye.

But James still haunted him.

Overtime he didn't exactly forget but he didn't go home much either. When he did his mother got him to spend time with James, helping him with his exercises, getting him out of the house so he didn't waste away in his room.

" _It must be nice,"_ James had said in his gravelly way, " _Ma says you're gonna make First Officer before your time is up."_

But Gabriel knew his brother wasn't being supportive, he wasn't being kind or proud. He was rubbing it all in his face.

What James was really saying was, _at least you've still got both your legs_. Gabriel grew tired of his brother's pity party, hardening himself. They argued relentlessly. It broke their mother's heart and aged their father.

 _A mother's love runs deep, Gabriel._

" _You have a fucking bionic leg that's better than the one old, get off your ass and do some good with your life!"_ He had regretted the words the moment they left his mouth.

And when the week followed of his graduation James had elected to remain at home. Gabriel told himself he didn't miss his brother's presence. But the night before, when he had tried on his cap and gown and Kat joked he looked like a blue peacock, he had told himself he would make peace with James after the ceremony.

He had decided if he was to spend the majority of his adult life in space and in danger, he didn't want the bad blood to follow him. His father had always pressed into his boys the idea of karma and omens, you didn't want them hanging around you.

But when James didn't show, making his feelings abundantly clear, Gabriel didn't even send his brother a goodbye transmission. He never sent a birthday greeting, never wished him a Merry Christmas. Gabriel didn't even know James had gotten married and had two boys of his own.

Gabriel only knew because Kat kept in touch with James. The two had hit it off better than expected, despite the pranks and jokes. But Kat had always been like that; the social butterfly, the conductor, she could work a room like no other. It's something he had always admired about her and the reason there was an instant attraction from the beginning.

The old lovers met up for lunch later in the day when Michael was still out.

"The boys are nineteen and twenty now," Kat said, bringing the topic back to James. Gabriel raised his glass, finished it and quickly ordered another.

"Nate and John, right?" He said with a sigh, he knew what they looked like. That they were the spitting image of himself and James at that age, that they were closer and not competitive, that his nephews were everything he and his brother hadn't been at that age.

Kat nodded sympathetically.

"You should talk to him." Kat said, being careful. She knew when to say "when", and she hated seeing this feud between Gabriel and James continue to linger. "It was almost thirty years ago, Gabe."

"He hasn't tried talking to me." He said bluntly. "Radio silence, reticent. Like he's a damn mute."

"Funny, he says the same thing about you." Kat said with a smirk.

"Well, born under a bad sign and all that other jazz." He said flippantly.

Kat leaned in a little.

"I'm seeing him for Christmas. You should come, bring Michael."

Gabriel's brow rose and he laughed a little.

"Are you sure you didn't get drunk before comin' here?" He questioned in a pointed but sarcastic tone. When her coy smile didn't drop his did.

"You're serious?"

"As a heart attack."

"Let's not joke about that I'm getting up in age."

Gabriel managed to divert the conversation from there, but only because she let him. He knew she was capable of bringing him back but she chose not to. She didn't have to. The seed had been planted and there was no stopping it now.

It was late when he returned to her quarters. She was still not back. For a moment he worried, until he found the note she left for him on the table in the kitchenette. She even wrote it on paper.

" _I'll be home late. I love you."_

Home, love... he sighed at the sincerity of it. And was saddened when he remembered their short reprieve wouldn't last long. He changed and waited for her, making himself, as she called it, at home. It was temporary but it was theirs.

Gabriel sent another message to James.

X

Michael decided she wanted to clear her head and take a walk and explore the city. She knew its history and the abundant information on Vulcan had taught her everything she knew about Starfleet and the Federation. But at a ground floor level, she had never really seen much of San Francisco. The hilly terrain reminded her of the dunes of Vulcan, however, there was less sand and more concrete. The buildings were lush, well lit, beautiful. The architecture was something to be admired.

And of course, the amazing construction of the Golden Gate bridge. She had thought about walking it but decided not to, choosing to admire it from afar, allowing herself to let it make her feel as small as the vast vessels she served on. She found it important to remember how small you were the universe, even compared to a bridge instead of the leviathan ships that set sail across the stars.

The weather was cool, Mark Twain had once said of the city, _"_ _The coldest winter I ever saw was the summer I spent in San Francisco_ _."_

Michael admired the quote now more than ever. The city had its charm, it's beauty.

The quiet, despite the bustling of people and ships and transports around her, was soothing. She hadn't any plans, no friends to meet up with while in the city. The war was dying down, fewer skirmishes here and there, but none of her old crewmates had shore leave at the same time. And any of the friendships she was making on the Hecate weren't close enough to make plans, especially around the holidays.

It was easy to be alone around this time of year for Michael because earth holidays had never had importance during her childhood. She was grateful for that at least. And really, she wasn't alone. She was with Gabriel and frankly that was all she needed and wanted.

Michael reflected on her life so far. Everything that had lead her to this point, sitting on a bench, eating grapes and gazing at the Golden Gate bridge.

Had all of this always been in her future? Could there have been another path...? Another path, without the pain, that could've still lead to Gabriel?

Could they always have been destined to meet? The chances were likely, they both served in Starfleet, she was on her way to becoming a captain of her own ship. She calculated that perhaps they would have had a fifty-fifty chance of meeting. Decent odds but... the war had forced them together.

As if her mutiny was the catalyst, and in more ways than one, it was. That one decision sent her into the arms of a spy and traitor and in turn she fell deeper in love than she knew was possible.

One year and six months. Countless lives had been lost. Hearts broken. Bodies of some of the finest officers she had ever served with lost to the vacuum of space. Floating, eternal, amongst the cosmos.

It depressed her that so many lives had been lost; and yet she lived on, with their memory, and she found love and for the first time in a long time she had found peace and a place in this world.

Gabriel was right. She was his beginning, middle and end. But she applied that same token to him as well. He wasn't her first love, that would always be Ash, but in place of that he was her everything else. He was her best friend, the person she could truly reveal herself to. With all her faults, her flaws, her sins and her blessings. She felt cleansed and healed when she was with him.

A pardon from Starfleet had been a blessing but Gabriel's love had been the balm to a festering wound. And it had all started as a lonely bandage to ease her aching heart.

At the beginning she had only wanted to use him, she believed he felt the same way. But it quickly grew into more than that until it was too late and they were both in over their heads. And it had been the most incredible, amazing and marvelous experience of her life. The ultimate adventure.

Willing to love someone was not something she had ever expected she would be able to do. Now she understood her foster mother better. Michael had often wondered how and why Amanda had loved Sarek despite, well, everything. The odds, the outcry of shame Sarek had brought to himself and his species. How he had in turn loved her when to him love was illogical.

Now Michael understood both Amanda and Sarek better than she ever had before. It wasn't political, it hadn't been for some Vulcan experiment, it hadn't been logical or chemical. It was simply love. Finding your soulmate didn't mean, necessarily, finding them on your own planet. Her foster parents were living proof of that. Spock was proof of that union.

A family, born out of incredible odds, bound and fated to be scorned and looked down upon. Michael knew her own personal upbringing and journey had been hard enough, but Spock... his would last his whole life. He would never know which world he would ever belong to. Which half of himself was the right half. Merging the two would take an powerfully well trained mind.

Michael missed her foster brother at times. She missed their conversations; how much like Sarek he really was, but both Vulcans were too stubborn and proud to ever admit it. Even though, paradoxically, those were human emotions she was anthropomorphising onto them.

But emotions went beyond species. They were written into the DNA of every creature.

Michael's thoughts turned to those of family. She felt that Gabriel was becoming her own personal family unit. That's what happens when you grow up and fall in love. Your childhood family remains, but you branch out, creating your own along the way even if you didn't intend to.

Could they... have a family? Did she want a child? Michael had never given it much serious thought until she fell in love with Gabriel. But bringing a child into a world during the aftermath of a war... that child in turn learning about their mother and the intrical part she played in the Klingon War. The lives that had been lost because of her.

Would they be ashamed? How scorned would they be in learning of her mutiny and her redemption? And their father...

Michael knew she was getting ahead of herself, but she would rather think of these things now instead of later. And there was Gabriel's age to consider. At fifty five he still had years ahead of him, years together, exploring and cultivating their relationship. What if by the time all that was over, it was too late to have a family?

 _Does he even want to be a father?_ She thought.

Michael didn't know what kind of mother she would be. She would look to the examples set by the women she had known in her life. Amanda, even Tilly... _Philippa_. Hell, even Captain Colt was proving to be a decent role model. Perhaps motherhood would relax her, make her realize what life was all about.

 _You're getting ahead of yourself again,_ she reminded herself.

And then there was her career to consider as well. She could find work on earth, or perhaps she and Gabriel could move off world to another Federation colony. Somewhere green and quiet. Somewhere they could live by their own lead and not another's. Somewhere green, with fields of flowers and trees.

 _Could you live with yourself knowing you never captained a ship?_ She asked herself, and the bitter taste of thinking "yes" left a hollow feeling inside of her gut.

A better understanding of why Gabriel had ended his relationship with Admiral Cornwall, fell heavily onto her.

The green planet they would make their home disappeared, the child that wasn't was no longer an option.

 _Career puts a bullet in love's head every time,_ his words echoed in her mind.

No. Perhaps they would settle into their new routine, seeing each other on her shore leave. Perhaps making a home somewhere on earth when she was finally fitted to a desk or a captain's chair. They could make that work. They had to. But she would not give him up.

Where he had given up his life with Admiral Cornwall, Michael wouldn't allow that this time. Whatever issues, battles and wars that lay ahead for them she would face them with him at her side, whatever the cost. Whether he was light years away or not she would never give him up again.

But... could a child fit into that plan?

X

When Michael returned to her quarters that evening the rooms were alight with a soft glow that made the room feel warmer. She shrugged off her jacket and found him in the study, using her computer to grade papers. He heard her come in but didn't turn. She wrapped her arms around him from behind and kissed his neck.

"You feel better?" He asked her, rubbing her arm with a hand that held a stylus pen between his fingers. Michael nodded against his cheek, taking a deep inhale of his natural scent mixed with his deodorant.

"Worlds better." She answered, kissing him again.

"Are you hungry?" He asked looking down at his tablet and then up at the computer screen.

It slightly irritated her, she found herself aching for him after being away from him all day. How she had managed six months without him suddenly eluded her.

"Yes." She answered, he made a small grunting noise. When he didn't turn she pressed a lingering kiss to his jawline, her hands slowly rubbing his arms. The man still didn't seem to get the hint.

"What are you feeling like?" He asked, completely unaware of what she was attempting to convey. He couldn't be so daft all of the sudden!

"Meat." She answered, alleviated he couldn't see the deep red blush that painted her cheeks and neck.

"Yeah?" He answered, he was barely listening to her.

Michael decided that perhaps a different approach was required. She couldn't just outright say, "let's have intercourse", it didn't sound sensual and she knew how it would sound coming from her: robotic and clinical. She couldn't use profanity because she wished to continue in her attempt to seduce him without it.

"Would you mind rubbing my shoulders?" She asked, the idea coming to mind and she waited for him to give an excuse.

"Hmm...? Oh. Yeah." He said and he swiveled his chair around and she sat down in his lap which seemed to surprise him. He hesitated only for a moment, she picked up on it. He wasn't sure if she was being genuine or not. The tight space offered very little room for him massage her adequately but he did his best.

"Feel ok?" He asked and she nodded but directed him to a "knot" she had in her shoulder blade, the truth was Michael kept herself very much limber and in shape, doing yoga and other stretches in the morning routinely. He pressed his thumb into her shoulder blade and she moaned softly.

"Thank you." She said and she closed her eyes.

Strategically, she gripped his knees with her hands. Her fingernails lightly biting through his sweatpants.

As his hands moved across her skin over the thin layer of her shirt it sent tight micro sensations up and down her spine, giving her goose flesh and amplifying her arousal. Time for the next part of her seduction; a simple adjustment to how she reclined in his lap, a gentle movement of her backside against his groin. He stiffened but only for a moment and she hid her pleased smile.

"Anymore?" He asked, playing along if he had finally caught on to her scheme or still completely unaware, it almost frightened her that she couldn't tell.

"Lower." She answered, he slid both hands down the lines of her back, pressing his thumbs into her back while holding her hips with his hands and the rest of his eight other fingers.

Moving his thumbs in deep circles she couldn't help but press back into him again, this time feeling his manhood beginning to harden at the soft pressure of her bottom.

"How's that?" He whispered against the back of her neck, his breath fanning out across it, making the tiniest hairs stand up.

That's when she knew she had him. He was a tactician but he knew when he was beaten and decided to give in.

"Good." She said, a little more breathy than she intended.

"Anywhere else hurt?" He asked, she felt him still massaging her lower back but the movements had taken on a different nature. It was a shift she felt in her bones.

"Yes."

"Where?" He pulled her back onto him ever so slightly, his cock pressing against her needily.

Michael bit her bottom lip and released a little sigh. Instead of answering she brought one of his hands around to her front and pressed it to her breast. He wasted little time in cupping her small breast, massaging it with thick calloused fingers that sweetly pinched her tit, bordering rough and gentle. She shivered at his touch and shifted her hips once more onto his cock.

Glancing down she watched his hand touch her so intimately, loving and greedily enjoying how large they were, how well they knew her body. How snug she felt as he surrounded her. How tight and empty her cunt suddenly felt, the dampness wreaking havoc on her panties.

"Where else, sweetheart?" He asked, his voice hushed and rough. "Show me where else you hurt."

Taking his other hand in hers, she placed it over her covered mound. He cupped her fully and pulled her back against his chest and she let out a cry of pleasure that was virtually pornographic. He hadn't even penetrated her, he hadn't even touched her clitorous, but he still managed to make her feel like she was on the edge of cumming by just caressing her.

"You need something, sweetheart?" He asked roughly before taking her earlobe between his teeth, his hips thrusting hard to meet the cradle of her thighs. He ran his lips down her neck and gently bit her in the expanse where her neck and shoulder met, she couldn't help but roll it into his mouth, shuddering as his tongue lapped at her flesh.

"I need you," she whimpered as he teased her cunt, slowly sliding his hand down the waistband of her trousers.

"Let's see how _**badly**_ you need me." He taunted, and he even let out a whimper when he felt how wet she was for him. " _Fuck_ , sweetheart. I bet that's uncomfortable," he said in that condescending yet sexy voice of his, his accent making her feel like a naughty school girl about to be punished. His upper lip curled as she turned to look at him, as he circled her clit and her breath hitched in her throat.

"You feel how hard you make me?" He whispered against her lips, teasing her evermore by sneakily licking her lips before retreating. Michael nodded like an eager little student.

"Did you ever walk around Discovery with your panties this wet?" He asked her, he wasn't sure why. He had always wondered if she had desired him as long he had her. Michael's eyes fluttered for a moment, searching his face.

"After... the _other_ place." She admitted, he smirked. It didn't hurt his feelings she hadn't fantasized about him before that. She had been a little preoccupied with other things.

Gabriel increased the speed of his index finger on her clit and she felt like she was going to fall off his lap, but he held her firmly in place.

"Before you came to me?" He got her back on track and slowed his finger again. Michael nodded once more.

"Did you ever touch yourself thinking about me?" He asked, kissing her neck again.

"Yes."

"Did you cum?"

"No. I... I didn't know _how_."

Gabriel groaned at the thought of her lying in her cot, biting her hand to keep herself from crying out and waking her roommate, flicking her clit, experimenting with her cunt, spreading her hot wetness around. Unable to cum because even then she needed something inside her, growing frustrated and remaining wet when she couldn't finish.

 _Fuck, she_ will _be the death of me,_ he thought in a cliche sort of way.

"Did it feel good, touching yourself?" He wasn't ready to let the image go of her long legs clutching her hand between them, maybe she palmed her breast, tweaking her nipple. He had certainly jerked off more times than he cared to admit thinking of her in such a base way.

"Yes. But it's better... _ah,_ when _you_ touch me."

Gabriel sat up a little with her in his lap, and when he came back down a finger slid into her opening and she gasped.

"I love fingering your sweet cunt," he said against her back as he thrust his finger in and out. "I love how wet it gets for me. I love how you taste, which reminds me I never did give you that kiss."

Michael's stomach clenched.

Soon, he rose fully, removing his fingers and ordering her to lie on her back on the floor with her legs spread, her feet planted firmly on the carpet. He quickly discarded her pants and underwear, moving between her legs, running his hands up and down her soft thighs. He looked utterly shameless, practically panting, she imagined herself as lewd as himself.

Gabriel's face hovered over her own and he kissed her forehead, her cheeks, even her chin, but avoided her lips. Smirking, he began to plant kisses down her chest raising her shirt and bra over her breasts, her belly, her hips, gently biting the pointed peaks of skin.

From there... his tongue made it's home inside her.

Michael fought the urge to push him away, the pleasure almost too much and painful. But that's how it always was for them. Pleasure and pain mixed together, swirling and dominating their love making and day to day lives.

While he suckled at her clit he thrust two fingers inside of her forcefully and she cried out hard before losing her voice in a silent scream of pleasure as he brought her off. She felt her wetness gush out of her, so much so he had to wipe his chin thoroughly. He chuckled, almost out of breath. She was embarrassed, she had never cum so much before.

"Shh, it's ok." He said gently, kissing her forehead again. She felt the dampness of her orgasm under her backside, coating the carpeted floor and the insides of her thighs. She still found it hard to face him. From her research she knew the female orgasm could be powerful, explosive even. She just never thought she herself would experience it as such.

"Will you take me right here?" She asked him, the look in her eye was shy and naughty all at once.

On the floor, against the wall, on a table or a chair or even the fucking ceiling if they could have, Gabriel would've made love to her anywhere she wished. He was ready and willing to grant any wish she desired. If she wanted him to get down on his knees and pant at her feet he would, if she wanted him to go to the farthest corners of the galaxy to wait for her he would.

Gabriel Lorca would do anything Michael Burnham asked him to. He would take a court martial, torpedo, phasor fire, battle his own demons in another dimension for her.

He nodded, kissing the corner of her mouth, until finally their lips met in a deep kiss where she allowed him to tackle and tame her eager little tongue with his own.

"I'll take you anywhere," he said longingly as he moved inside of her, she gripped him with her thighs as he made deep, hard thrusts. His arms boxed her in, planted on either side of her, using the floor as leverage to reach the deepest parts of her.

That sweet spot inside of her crying out for his cock.

Weakly, her hands rested on his broad chest, her back growing chaffed from the floor. Soon, her legs were forced closer to her chest, but with a hand he held them apart, nearly to the floor, his chest pressed tightly to her own, his other hand wound into her hair. Their breathing heady and the intimate sounds of their sexes meeting filled the small space of the office.

Papers that needed grading were forgotten, dinner an afterthought. Outside, the Christmas lights decorating the temporary living space filled the room with green, red and white light. Their own little world, born between them, conceived in pain and torment. Finding solace in one another in an inferno of desire and love.

Her orgasm fast approaching, she suddenly had a strange feeling of deja-vu. The short but harrowing days spent inside that _other_ place surfaced. The away mission... the fear in his eyes when his other self had taken her hostage. He had bargained with himself and vowed he would do anything for her...

Why had she not seen it in his eyes then? That fear of losing her, the pain his alternate could inflict on her. She had seen it then but had buried it, ignored it. Until Ash revealed himself, and her captain's eyes brimming with tears as a jagged knife was held to her throat appeared.

" _I'll do anything,"_ Gabriel had said, his twin from another dimension released her, she had fallen into his arms and he promised to get them out alive.

Michael had known then but she hadn't let herself truly see, allowing herself to remain blind. But it had been as clear as day how he had really felt. He had loved her then as he loved her now and through it all he had remained utterly devoted to her.

"Are you close?" He panted against her neck, kissing and licking the soft skin of her throat.

"Yes... _again, again_ ," she moaned and he knew what she meant, what she felt. He came inside of her with a body tingling shudder and he feared he might blackout.

Exhausted and spent, Gabriel rolled off her, lying on his back beside her, pulling her under his arm so she could rest on his chest.

After the hysteria of their feverish lust had worn off they remained on the floor, nestled together.

"I have a strange question for you," he began, staring at the ceiling, watching it dissolve under his vision until he blinked and it went back to normal again. "How would you like to spend Christmas with me... and my brother's family?"

Michael blinked and sat up, staring down at him. His face was nervous, his eyes gentle.

"I didn't know you had a brother." She answered, rising himself he shrugged.

"We haven't talked in awhile. A... _long_ while." He admitted, looking away as if he were ashamed. And he was. James had responded before Michael had returned.

" _Gabriel, Jane and I would be happy to see you. Nate and John are looking forward to meeting their uncle."_

"What's he like?" Michael dared ask, Gabriel ran his hand over her leg.

"Me. Don't look surprised when you see him." He commented, itching his forehead with his thumb.

Frowning, Michael tilted her head and asked,

"Why?"

"We're... twins. Identical to be exact."

Michael tried to fathom two Lorcas out there. Two Gabriels, one with a different name, but alike in DNA and everything else.

"Did he attend the academy?" She asked him, already knowing the answer.

"No. There was an accident. It was my fault. He was discouraged and became extremely depressed."

"What happened?"

Gabriel told her the whole story. They were seventeen, warm blooded competitive idiots. They had been working all summer to repair an old hover racer their dad used when he was a kid.

Only James, ever the engineer, dropped a brand new engine under the hood, so the racer would run even faster than it had before. Gabriel handled the aesthetics and finding new parts for the controls while James made the thing capable as going as fast as one hundred and fifty mph. It was a lot of power to give to two young kids.

They worked surprisingly well for once, even their mother commented that they had never gone so long without fighting; except when they were infants. However she joked that in the womb they were constantly fighting one another, or so it felt.

By the end of the summer the hover racer was ready. Their dad told them, quite firmly, they were not to take it out on the valley until he got home from a convention. Their mother was conveniently away visiting a friend.

Their parents should've known they couldn't trust two seventeen year olds with a hover racer they had just given up parties and fun for an entire summer.

The impulse to take it out on the valley was too tempting and Gabriel and James gave in. Of course, like most stories that begin this way, it ended in disaster and heartbreak. It crashed when they reached fifty mph, they had barely had it off the ground two minutes. Gabriel had accelerated it too quickly and misjudged his distance from a nearby tree that had been standing there since god was a boy.

That tree had survived time, war, poverty, near total catastrophic destruction during the third world war. And it survived the metal smouldering crash of a hover racer when it crashed into it at fifty mph. James had miscalculated how much the old model could take with a burning hot new engine, it had melted the old metal to the core and the boys went spinning out of control.

Gabriel had walked away with a broken arm, James had severed his leg. But even with a broken arm, the adrenaline rush was enough for Gabriel to breathe through the pain. He slung his brother over his shoulders and walked the ten miles back to the house, the heat and exhaustion nearly killing him.

James was half dead when they got back, with quick thinking Gabriel managed to cauterize the wound and called an ambulance. It was only through a miracle that James lived.

Gabriel's parents were beside themselves. The three of them never left James' side. Through it all, their father couldn't look at Gabriel. Their mother had tried to be the peacekeeper, devoting and overworking herself between her two boys and the man she loved and had married.

Gabriel's father didn't speak to him for two months. It was the first time in his life he had been the outcast, the black sheep and the one no one wished to speak of or to. Except their mother.

" _How can you even look at me?"_ Gabriel had asked him mother through tears, tormenting himself and isolating himself. His room was a mess, his high school trophies lay broken in piles, medals and ribbons lay in the receptacle.

Starla Lorca was a rare kind of woman. She had refused to give up on either of her sons. Sitting beside her boy, she wrapped her arm around him, his head leaning on her shoulder.

" _A mother's love runs deep, Gabriel. I can look at you because I love you."_

Gabriel never forgot such a sentiment. It aided him through many of his darkest moments following the accident. When James woke up he wasn't the same spirited kid he had been before. They had fitted him with a leg better than his real one, but he hated it. He felt less than himself, he felt less than human.

Many times Gabriel walked out to the valley and stared at that fucking tree, wanting to cut it down.

If he had just been able to get control of the hover racer he could've avoided it. Or if the damn thing hadn't been there at all the crash wouldn't have been as horrible and James would still have his bloody leg.

Gabriel jumped at the chance to join Starfleet, to follow in his great grandfather's footsteps. He longed for triumph, victory and glory. Anything that was the opposite of what home was like. He wanted to excel again, to be with his friends, to date and be reckless without his father's or James' shadow leering over him.

His mother begged him to stay home another year. When he had tried to make amends with James for the last time it hadn't ended well. Gabriel's father, Ed, gave him his blessing and genuinely wished him well. The Lorcas even came to visit him from time to time.

But never James.

When the Buran was destroyed and Gabriel was convolessing, James never came to see him and never sent word asking how he was doing. Not personally. Katrina sent his regards for him, it was a slap in the face as far as Gabriel was concerned.

"And that's why you haven't spoken in so long?" Michael asked, they had moved to the bedroom, dressed and lay side by side facing each other. Gabriel looked down and then up at her again.

"It's time to fix what's broken before it's too late." He resigned and she took his hand in hers.

"Do you... want a family, Gabriel?" She asked him carefully. He seemed unfazed by the question but he thought about it.

"I'm not sure to be honest. Those kinds of thing, well, I stopped thinking about them a long time ago. But... lately," he paused when he felt her hand tighten around his. "Listen if you're about to tell me you're pregnant that's either the most accurate, fastest pregnancy test or-"

Michael cut him off with her laughter and shook her head.

"No, no, I just... I was thinking a lot about that today."

"Michael, your career, I told you once before-"

"Shh, stop talking, sometimes it's miserable when you talk." She said putting a hand over his mouth, he gently bit her fingers and crawled on top of her and she giggled.

"Miserable, huh? I don't seem to recall you being in much _misery_ when I was whispering sweet nothings in your ear," he planted a kiss on her neck and she shivered.

"I'm not sure _those_ things qualify as 'sweet nothings', Captain Lorca." She reminded him smartly. He clicked his tongue at her kissed her forehead.

"Michael, there might actually be a way for us to be together." He began and she frowned. "I spoke to Katrina today. Starfleet is changing their protocols on significant others serving on the same ship."

Gabriel waited for reaction, she was slowly sitting up. He was resting on his knees, she was holding his sides in her hands, afraid to let go.

"If... we got married we could potentially be together."

"We could be together." She repeated, quietly, as if it weren't real. As if it were a dream.

"Potentially." He reminded her, but he nodded all the same. She began to cry, her bottom lip quivering and he cupped her face in his hands.

"Don't cry, sweetheart," Gabriel said sweetly, wrapping her in his warm embrace, holding her so tight so she knew how much he cared and how much he loved her.

"We could be together." She said again, losing herself in those words.

"I guess this is a pretty shitty way to propose, huh?" He said with a short, nervous laugh.

"Yes." She said, her voice muffled from being buried in his chest.

Gabriel rolled his eyes.

"Well, you don't have to _brutally_ honest-"

"No, no, I meant yes. I'll marry you."

Gabriel only stared at her for a moment, almost not believing what he was hearing. He was confident she would say yes, he had hoped beyond all hope she would say yes and accept him. But there was one last hurdle he had to jump through. And Michael seemed to read his mind.

"Sarek." She said simply.

"I understand it's an appropriate form of respect to ask a father's permission before marrying his daughter. On any planet that seems to be the respectful thing to do."

Michael nodded and he spooned her underneath the covers.

"We'll have to go to Vulcan." Michael said and he sighed.

"I was worried you'd say that. I sent a message to Vulcan, Amanda is going to pass on my request for an audience."

"I'll ask Captain Colt when we've left spacedock. She's owes me a favor already."

They lay there, allowing sleep to take them. But before it did, she accepted his invitation to meet his family for Christmas. The weeks and months ahead would be trying and difficult. Perhaps some of the hardest trials of their relationship. But they had survived worse than family gatherings and a father's blessing.

As he fell to sleep, Gabriel realized that despite Michael's turbulent relationship with Sarek, she would never marry him without her foster father's blessing. Amanda would be easy to win over, but Sarek was like facing the edge of a Klingon bat'leth. And that sharp fucker had two edges.

 **AN: I hope you're enjoying the balance of porn and plot. Merry Christmas and happy holidays! I'll be out of town this coming weekend so there may or may not be an update before then. Much love to all : )**


	10. PART TEN: The Living Spectre and

PART TEN

Interlude: The Living Spectre and the White Rabbit

" _What terrified me will terrify others; and I need only describe the spectre which had haunted my midnight pillow."_

Mary Shelley

The away mission was a disaster, nearly from the very beginning. Christ above, what sort of hell had he gotten his crew into now? He had been so sure... despite what Doctor Culbar, Lt. Stamets and others might think, his intentions weren't malevolent.

 _The path to hell is paved with good intentions,_ the adaged stared him in the face and laughed at him, maliciously, mercilessly.

 _You idiot,_ he thought harshly.

"Burnham?" He rolled over, finding it in himself to move his body after the initial shock had worn off, the attack had been sudden and they were taken by surprise. Their shuttle was adrift, but... that beast was still out there.

Michael was coming to, she winced in pain, there was a fresh cut on her forehead. He reached out and pulled her gently into a sitting position.

"What...?"

"Don't move too much, not unless you have to." He ordered her, touching her face to examine her head wound. It wasn't bad, not that deep. Looked worse than it actually was. He made sure the sigh of relief that passed his lips didn't seem excessive. Christ, if he lost _her_ too...

There wasn't time for that now.

"Unknown vessel, your ship is badly damaged and there's nowhere to run. Prepare to be boarded." The same voice that had first threatened them with violence spoke again, the comm system sent out a burst of sparks and began shutting down. The computer began saying things like, "massive system failure" and "breach imminent".

"Weapons?" Michael asked. He went to a bin, opening it with a bruised hand. She crawled towards him, lights appeared and surrounded them. They were being pulled in by a tractor beam. He worked faster, popping off the lid and handing her a phasor.

"Set it to kill." He said easily, she hesitated, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. "We don't have time to be diplomatic, Burnham. They've already fired at us."

"Hopefully Discovery will receive our distress call." She added quickly.

Something clamped down on their shuttle and she gripped the phasor. The ship was massive, it almost looked familiar but neither captain or science specialist could tell in the nebula they had been caught in.

They had been on a routine away mission to observe the unknown space around them, when they were pulled in. Almost like a magnetic force. Once inside the nebula there was a brief warning and before Lorca or Burnham knew what had happened a ship had fired on them.

In her dizzy state she had thought she saw the beginnings of a Starfleet serial number... _**NCC...**_

But then she reminded herself she had a head wound. Another Starfleet vessel in this place...?

It was highly unlikely, especially after what Captain Lorca admitted to doing. He was attempting to use the sporedrive to go back to before the Buran was ambushed and destroyed. He was trying to save his crew.

Burnham found it admirable but selfish and foolish. He nearly killed Stamets. He was endangering his whole crew, risking his own life and theirs. And now they were in this new hell realm. And they were being boarded by god only knew what.

Her mind drifted to Ash briefly... he was ill, laid up in sickbay when she left. Doctor Culbar could only come up with was he was running a fever and was talking nonsense. He deduced it had everything to do with the female Klingon on board. Burnham had hated leaving him... but now she had bigger problems.

Captain Lorca told her to get back to the controls with him, she on one side and he on the other. The shuttle jerked a little but the two kept their balance.

When the landing doors to the shuttle didn't open they shared a look.

"What are they waiting for?" She whispered, he shook his head slowly.

"If that were me... I wouldn't use the front door."

Michael felt a queer chill run down the back of her neck and it slithered it's way round her body to make a home in her gut. She was afraid, but that wasn't unreasonable given the circumstances. This was more... _primal_. She was terrified.

No one was bursting through the door. The longer the moments ticked by the truer Captain Lorca's words seemed to be.

And then the gas began to fill the small shuttle. They began taking deep breaths, fighting the urge not to grow hysteric. He pulled her to him and pressed a hand over her mouth and nose.

His eyes panicked, like a cornered bear. She couldn't speak, nothing could be said. He wanted to tell her that if their captors wanted them dead then they'd already be dead. They wouldn't go through all this trouble just to gas them to death. But Lorca couldn't comfort her with words, he just held her.

Eventually, darkness took them both.

X

" _Go ask Alice, when she's ten feet tall..."_

What happened between the gasing to the cell they now shared together was an unknown. Their phasors had been confiscated at some point, most likely after they had lost consciousness.

"Cap... _Captain_?" Michael felt metal against her back, it was warm from her body heat but the rest of the brig was cold. The force field that kept them inside hummed lightly. She looked over to see Captain Lorca. And he looked terrible. She had to crawl towards him, the gas had made her brain foggy and the head injury didn't help. Which her captors hadn't healed.

That said a lot about them.

Captain Lorca groaned but was still unconscious. He had a black eye, his lip was split, his hand rested over his side, perhaps they had beaten him there too.

Michael found her feet, the brig was... it looked familiar. All too familiar. It looked like the brig of a Federation vessel except with minor differences. There were devices with upright body rests, with thick leather straps there to hold a person in should they wish to escape.

They looked like ancient torture apparatus'. Cold, sterile... as if the occupant of one were a guinea pig. The rat in the cage.

Distantly, there was... music? Another earth tune, it reminded her of her childhood. But only because of a queer similarity. As if the person in charge of playing such a song could see into her mind, her thoughts... her memories. She shook her head, rubbed her face. It was all in her head, it wasn't real... and something shiny caught her eye through the force field.

A plaque. Simple, square, the same size as it would be on any Federation vessel.

Michael's throat went dry as she scanned and memorized what little she could see from the silver square plaque.

"Captain. Captain, wake up." She shook him gently, but firmly enough to attempt to wake him. With a groan his eyes opened, but snapped shut when the light hit them. He didn't have his hypopen. His eyes were vulnerable and needed time to adjust, if they could at all. He kept them closed, she wrapped her hand around his and pulled him to his feet.

"What happened to you?" She asked him, steading him on his feet.

"I woke up first, your head must have kept you out." He rubbed one eye then the other, releasing her hand.

"You fought them." She said with an air of disappointment.

"I got information, if that means a black eye then so be it."

"What did you find out?"

Captain Lorca paused, swallowed and slowly opened his eyes again. Sighing, he glanced around their confinement. Their not so gilded cage, as if he had been there before...

"Maybe we should sit." He suggested.

Sitting crossed legged beside him she trained her eyes to remember to watch for her captors who could come back at any second. She collected they were definitely watching them, she believed the captain thought the same.

"First of all, everything I say will sound insane," he began. "I've... been on _this_ ship before."

Michael leaned in.

"Can you be more specific?"

"It's the same ship but..." he paused and glanced around, shaking his head. "It's not the same ship."

Michael was beginning to wonder if _he_ too had suffered a head injury that had gone unnoticed. But the sporedrive, Stamets' behavior; existing outside of the regular timestream... what if they had traveled too far this time?

"Captain-" he held up his hand,

"I told you I would sound insane-"

"You're not making sense."

Leaning against the wall Captain Lorca rubbed his eyes again, bringing his knees up to rest his arms on them. He looked at her, his eyes seemed... mournful.

"Michael, this is the _Buran_." No sooner had the words left his mouth did the brig's sliding doors open.

The two Starfleet officers stood, guarding each other in their cell. Michael briefly noted the protective way Captain Lorca moved in front of her, his arm grazing her midsection.

It should be _she_ protecting her Captain. Then she thought of Saru... her heart clenched at the idea of him. And she wondered how Ash was holding up, if he was feeling better... she wanted to hold him.

Two men entered... they looked like Starfleet and didn't at the same time. Their uniforms were navy blue but far more revealing. The two men who entered wore black armored tank tops instead of fabric, their weapons were more lethal in appearance and something that wasn't standard issue were the knives on their belts.

"Computer, lower force field." A thuggish officer said. The other drew his weapon and pointed it at Lorca.

"Move." Thuggish said in a deep voice.

"Make me-"

"Captain." Michael cut in. She took his arm and he whipped his head to look at her.

"I'll be fine." She said, not believing the words entirely herself. The other officer who had his weapon drawn on Lorca laughed sinisterly. She tried to hide her fear, but she knew she could be brave.

Lorca shook his head minutely, his eyes searching hers. Begging her...

"You're the captain, I have to protect you. I won't fail again." She told him strongly.

Thuggish reached around Lorca and grabbed her arm, roughly yanking her across the threshold. The force field reappeared and Lorca watched her go, being lead away like a prisoner, like she was a degenerate. They looked like a bunch of idiot chimps.

"Fuck!" He shouted, punching a wall. He slid down the wall, massaging his now aching hand. He had to figure it out. He knew where they were but _this_ wasn't possible. Or at least not in the way he intended. It was the Buran but it wasn't. It was the same faces he remembered but they were all altered. They were... savage.

X

Michael was pushed into a darkened room, the windows reflected herself mixed with star points and the nebula outside. It reminded her of when she searched for Sarek...

"Well, well," a voice cut through the darkness, British and imperial. " _The_ one and only Michael Burnham, on _my_ ship."

Suddenly Michael was having deja-vu... it was almost the same exact words Captain Lorca had said to her upon their first meeting.

Turning she saw a shadowy figure in the darkness.

"And you are?" She asked cautiously, holding her ground. A chuckle resounded throughout the room, he stepped forward a pace but still remained in the dark.

"Playing stupid has never suited you." Came his retort, she could feel the smirk on his face. Then, something Captain Lorca had said... it was the Buran and it _wasn't_ the Buran. Stamets, rambling about alternate dimensions, " _the enemy is here..."_

If this really was the Buran then...

His voice, as familiar and unfamiliar as it was, she knew that voice. What applied was the uncanny way she knew had had this conversation before. The penetrating recognition, the height even shadowed in the darkness was similar.

Captain Lorca had joked that he liked to think the dark made him mysterious. Perhaps this man thought the same. Believed his own hype...

"If you think you're being mysterious you're mistaken. Come into the light." She said, her voice unwavering. There was no chuckle, there was no sarcastic comment or quip. Instead she heard powerful footsteps coming towards her, she couldn't help but take a step back.

"Lights." The voice ordered as he swiftly moved across the room and she stifled a gasp as a hand gripped the back of her neck tightly, she felt her nerves cringe in pain, the bones bending under his authoritative and capable fingers.

"I _always_ liked that spirit." Captain Lorca sneered in her face. But it... wasn't- _couldn't_ \- be Captain Lorca. He was in the brig and he didn't have a scar going from his left temple down his left eye, he didn't have a strange tattoo on his bare forearm (that she knew of) bearing a strange insignia of some kind. A planet with a sword stabbed through the center at a vertical angle.

" _Michael Burnham_ ," he repeated her name, lower this time, "You're a hard woman to find."

"I don't know who you _think_ I am, sir, but-"

"Oh, you are definitely not _the_ Michael Burnham I'm looking for, but you'll do."

Michael narrowed her eyes, she saw an opening. Using her Vulcan martial arts experience she landed a quick and strong snap to his ribcage, sending him backward.

She went for the door but it was sealed.

Other Lorca coughed and a gravelly laugh followed.

"No use anyway," he said, rubbing his chest. "Force field on the other side will send you into a catatonic state. And I like you the way you are, frankly."

Michael swallowed, her hands pressed to the door in defeat.

"Quite the bounty on your head." He went on. "Well, not _yours_. The other one. My crew is still trying to figure out where you came from. And... that _other_ one, the other me."

Turning, she saw he had come closer, but he kept his distance this time and had drawn a knife.

"Now, are you going to place nice, love?" He questioned, darkly, gesturing with the knife. She nodded curtly. "Good. I wouldn't want to mark up that pretty face of yours, again."

Michael tried not to tremble at the thought. She had faced down a Klingon warrior, three times! But this man... he was disarming her somehow. What was this place doing to her? Her head, it must be her head.

"Although, if you're anything like your counterpart," he paused. "I think I'll keep you on a short leash."

"Where am I?"

Other Lorca laughed at her question, like she was an idiot. She didn't care for it. She was used to condescension, even patronage, but she wasn't an imbecile.

"You're floating somewhere in the Milky Way, love. Check the starcharts, if you like." He pointed to a computer. Hesitantly she went to it, the system and programming was similar to her own dimension... Michael paused.

 _My_ own _dimension... that must be what this is,_ she decided. Stamets was right.

And Other Lorca was right. The Milky Way, the charted star systems... everything was almost exactly the same.

Except...

"You're not the Federation." She said simply.

"Federation?" He questioned and she had her answer.

"The United Federation of Planets." She clarified. He stood over her, enclosing her with his arms, trapping her. The knife was at his hip again, if she was fast enough...

"This is the _Terran Empire_ , love," he whispered in her ear, she recoiled away from it. "Not some _Federation_."

Michael slowly faced him, she felt a chill run through her. His eyes were vacant, unlike her captain's which had often conveyed many things to her. But the man before her was not _her_ captain, he was a stranger and she was in a strange land indeed.

 _Oh, Alice, what have you gotten yourself into now?_ She thought grimly.

"Never thought I'd have a do over with you," he said leering at her, taking her chin between his fingers and she leaned back, he only tightened his hold, forcing her to remain still.

"Unhand me." She said through clenched teeth.

To her surprise he did. He pressed a button and the doors opened and the force field slid away.

"Take her back." He ordered.

The same two guards returned her to the brig, they shoved her towards Captain Lorca who caught her around the waist as the force field returned.

"Are you alright?" He asked, he still hadn't let her go. Michael nodded, but she was shaking. He rubbed her arms up and down in an attempt to relax her.

"I met the captain." She told him, unable to look him in the eye. Afraid the scar would appear, that this was all some trick. But this Lorca's hands felt different, they felt protective. They felt kind. They felt... _safe_.

Michael believed the man she had just met didn't know what kindness was.

"And?" Captain Lorca asked, fearing the answer.

"It's... another _you_." Was all she could say.

Realizing he had been holding her longer than what was appropriate he released her. Even if he yearned more than anything to hold her, to rock her gently in his arms and promise that everything was going to be alright. But he had never lied to her, he wasn't about to start now.

"We have to get out of here." He said decidedly.

"And quickly. Apparently there's another me in this dimension too. And she's got a bounty on her head." She informed him. He sighed and they decided to attack the guards the next time they came. They would have to feed them or provide water eventually.

However, when the food and water was simply beamed into their cell that option disappeared.

They sat together, trying to come up with another plan in silence when he spoke,

"How did he act around you?" Captain Lorca asked, conversationally.

"He was... distasteful, crass, and..."

"What?"

"Had a... flair for innuendo."

Captain Lorca clenched his jaw subconsciously.

"Captain, there is one thing we haven't said but I know we've both thought, judging by your question."

Captain Lorca shook his head and stood. Going over the cell again, inch by inch as he had already done several times.

"I'm not going to use you like that, Burnham." He said adamantly. Michael also rose, following his pacing.

"There may be no other way." She insisted, he stood close to her, looking down to meet her eyes.

"No."

"Why? It's of no consequence to me."

"It is to me." He said and before she could question it, barely process it, the doors to the brig opened again.

It was Other Lorca and two of his goons, and another man. He looked skittish and afraid. Captain Lorca- Michael's Captain Lorca- recognized him.

"Benton." He said under his breath. He had been his science officer on the real Buran, the one he had destroyed. He was a funny guy in Lorca's dimension, there was nothing humorous about this situation.

"Go ahead." Other Lorca said, looking his alternate up and down, his eyes flicking between Lorca and Burnham.

 _James... or me,_ he thought, shocked to see himself staring at _himself_ was unsettling, alarming, ominous. This wasn't like seeing his brother, that would've been awkward but common place.

This was something else entirely.

"Well?" Other Lorca asked.

Michael looked to her captain. It must have been a truly surreal experience... seeing what else you became in another timeline, another dimension and you encapsulated in space and time. Their two worlds dangling just out of reach of the other.

"They check out, Captain. Genetic matches, both of them." Benton said, Other Lorca nodded and one guard lead Benton away. Michael's captain looked like he wanted to reach for the man.

It was like staring at a ghost.

Michael knew then she would always be able to tell the differences between the two half of this one man. Her captain's eyes could be serious, firm, dense even. But never callous or cruel.

Never intentionally ruthless. Michael believed she knew the man that well.

"I see why you like her," Other Lorca said approaching the force field. "She's tough."

The voice chilled Captain Lorca, as it had Michael. Because it sounded like him but it wasn't, looked like him yet that was not his face. This couldn't be the same man, and it wasn't but it might have been once. It could be, one day... if he let himself slip into those boots.

The two Lorcas stared at each other, observing, cataloging. Absorbing every inch of data.

"I do hate to tear apart lovers," Other Lorca joked and Captain Lorca's upper lip curled over his teeth.

"I don't care for what you're implying." Gabriel said, in a startling and dismaying tone. Michael had never heard such a level of contempt in his voice before, he had never even spoken to Stamets like that.

"No?" Other Lorca said, crossing his arms over his chest and feigning a sigh. "Shit, I'm sorry. I don't think you spent enough time with our doctor."

Other Lorca snapped his fingers and the force field fell away, the two officers dragging Gabriel from the cell. Michael tried to reach for him but he shook his head. He had endured Klingon torture, he would endure this. For her.

"Captain." Was all she could say as he was dragged away, shocked at her own need to protect him, stunned that her voice was breaking. She had at least wished they would do it in front of her, it would be painful and humiliating but at least she would know he was alive and what they were doing to him.

"Looks like it's just us." Other Lorca said coarsely, entering the cell, commanding the computer only remove it under his command. She backed away from him.

"What am I going to do with you?" He asked, and once again the words from the real Lorca echoed in her mind.

Michael wished Ash was here, but was also thankful he was spared this. He was fragile now, he needed rest. But she ached to be near him, to be there for him during his recovery.

Other Lorca approached her slowly, knife strapped to his hip. She watched him carefully. He was toying with her, stalking her. She was nothing but meat to him.

"If I'm worth so much, whoever you're delivering me to won't want me damaged." She said, trying to appeal to whatever humanity he had. Which she believed was little. And, trying to buy some time.

"Oh, they just want you alive. They don't care what kind of state you're in. Broken leg, fractured skull..." He said as if he were reading a menu, Michael made sure to watch her footing, kept her eyes keen to her surroundings.

"Are you so desperate for goodwill in your Empire that you'll use me to get it?" She asked, trying to get him to talk instead of whatever horrible things he planned to do.

Other Lorca shrugged.

"A man's got to eat, love." He said.

When the space between them began to close he stopped, feet from her. Resting a hand on the wall next to her head.

"Think of a song." He ordered, she frowned. His eyes luring her in.

"What?"

"The first song that comes to mind. I assume you have music where your from."

And the curious thing was, she did.

"White Rabbit." She answered, she felt defeated, collapsing into herself.

"Computer, play White Rabbit by Jefferson Airplane."

The music began low naturally but slowly built to a finer pace.

 _One pill makes you larger, and one pill makes you small_

 _And the ones that mother gives you, don't do anything at all_

 _Go ask Alice, when she's ten feet tall_

Michael felt the irony. How many rabbit holes had she fallen down now? She felt his shadow over her, she raised her eyes.

Other Lorca took her hand and put it on his shoulder, with his other he cupped her waist and took her small hand in his. She clenched her eyes shut as he pulled her against him.

"Dance much at home?" He crooned into her each, his lips grazing her skin in turn making it cawl.

 _This. Isn't. Captain Lorca,_ she kept reminding herself.

"Not really." She managed to answer.

It was all so surreal, he felt like Captain Lorca might've felt. The voice biting into her eardrums, it wasn't him. This wasn't Captain Lorca. But he _felt_ like him. What he could be, what he _might_ feel like... touching her, dancing with her, using his hands on her...

"Computer, amplify room 1-6-1-2." He ordered and the sound of yelling assaulted her senses. She tried to pull away from him but he gripped her closer to his body.

"Stop." She begged him but he didn't. She heard the sound of a fist meeting a face.

"He's a tough son of a bitch. Got my best bruiser working him over." Other Lorca said.

 _And if you go chasing rabbits, and you know you're going to fall_

 _Tell 'em a hookah-smoking-caterpillar has given you the call_

 _And call Alice, when she was just small..._

"Why are you hurting him? It's me you want." She demanded, clenching the hand that held her tightly. Then she remembered how he put her other on his shoulder, she could pinch him and have him on the ground before he knew what had happened. But there was still the matter of the force field.

The sounds intensified and a body dropped to the floor.

"Why?" Other Lorca yanked her harder against him, crushing her to his form. "You don't see how he looks at you?"

Michael knew he was distracted, she had to keep him on that path if her plan was going to work. She kept struggling against him, ignoring the way his body seemed to be reacting to her wriggling.

"Let me go." She hissed at him.

"Oh, love, we're going to have some fun first." He whispered against her neck. "I'm going to make you scream."

"You're a pig." She seethed and he laughed.

" _Your_ captain is no better." He informed her knowingly. He had her back into the wall again.

"He's a better man than _you_."

Other Lorca sighed and nodded, boxing her in, his body language more than obvious. He tried to kiss her and she recoiled again.

"In some ways. But not in this way. He wants you, I can tell. Because I do. And if he's anything like me, I'd have you on your knees-"

Michael moved her hand up only a few inches and pinched harder than was necessary. His eyes widened in shock for a split second before he fell to the ground. She backed away from him, wanting to scourge his touch from her body. She wiped her hands, as if he had infected them somehow.

What he had said... there was no truth to it.

Was there...?

There was no time to dwell on that now. She had to figure out another way, preferably before his goons returned with her real Captain Lorca.

When the doors slid open her eyes widened. Captain Lorca stood there, his split lip freshly bloodied and his knuckles equally as red. He also held a weapon in his hands. He approached the force field, stumbling a little, observing the unconscious Other Lorca.

"Are you alright?" He said, coming as close to the force field as he could without it harming him. Michael nodded, relieved and happy to see him.

"It won't open without his command." She told him and he thought for a moment, clearing his throat.

"I never was good at impressions," he said with a sigh. "Computer, deactivate force field on my command."

There was a hiatus between the command and the computer trying to discern his voice from the Other Lorca.

The force field disappeared.

As Michael stepped towards him the ship lurched, phasor fire. He went to a computer console, she followed him.

"Looks like the cavalry's arrived." He said and he took her hand in his, and she felt something she hadn't felt before in regards to her captain. An unusual discharge of energy, a tingling sensation... a _spark_.

They managed to communicate their position to Discovery and they were beamed aboard, leaving the other Buran disabled for the time being. But they needed to create some distance, their ship would be repaired sooner than later.

X

In sickbay, Michael was looked after and she sat by Ash's bedside. He was still ill and sleeping. Captain Lorca entered and she went to him, letting her boyfriend's hand lie gently at his side.

Doctor Culbar and informed her that there had been no change in Ash's condition, but he was asking about her.

"How are you feeling?" Lorca asked and she sighed.

"As well as can be expected." She said, vaguely. He nodded.

"I understand. I still... well, I think we can both agree that's something not worth reliving."

Michael did agree, wholeheartedly. Something nagged at her though and it wouldn't go away.

"Captain..." she began, gently, but she faltered.

"Yes, Burnham?" He asked.

Michael shook her head, wringing her hands.

"It's nothing. Are _you_ alright?" She asked, hoping he was. She couldn't imagine what he was going through. Seeing the dead, walking and talking and living but not themselves must have been harrowing in it's own morbid way.

"I'll live." He assured her and he touched her elbow for only a second but the same tingling sensation ran up her arm and burrowed it's way under her skin. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

Did he feel it too?

Releasing her and departing from sickbay, Michael watched him go with a confused look on her face. She quickly returned to Ash's side, holding his hand, attempting to recreate what she had just felt when Captain Lorca simply touched her elbow in a friendly way to comfort her. But it didn't happen.

Whatever seed Other Lorca had planted that day, it would resonate with her for the weeks and months to come.

It was the day she stopped seeing Captain Lorca as just her captain and began seeing him as a man.

 **AN: short chapter before I leave for the weekend, I just wanted a quick interlude between chapters. I hope you enjoyed it regardless. Love you all! : )**


	11. PART ELEVEN: Mend the Bond

PART ELEVEN

Mend the Bond

" _Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow."_

Melody Beattie

The Lorca familial home lay on a hill looking out over a deep valley surrounded by sycamores which provided shade and comfort from the heat of the Texas sun. It was once a utopia, a safe haven from the trials and terrors of the world and beyond. Now it was an unknown, as mysterious and hidden as anything that lay in wait in the deepest depths of space.

Gabriel Lorca had not set foot on this land in many years. He had shielded himself from it, created a barrier and only he held the key. It was now a burnt photograph of torment, guilt and unsaid things. The attic held trophies, awards, merretts. The barn held memories of his father, Ed, teaching his sons to ride the thoroughbreds he raised. James had been born in a saddle, Gabriel preferred his spacelegs.

The "family business" changed many times over the centuries. Though horses had been replaced with automobiles and eventually to hovering crafts, the majesty they held never disappeared.

 _Bethesda Estates,_ the golden encrusted sign still hung over the entrance of the driveway, heightened for hovering transports and spacecraft.

Gabriel learned from Kat the day before he and Michael departed that James' wife was a half Betazoid doctor. Her power of empathy was slightly muddled by her half human side but she was very sharp and keen.

Their sons, Gabriel's nephews, were also staying at the ranch for Christmas and he was anxious to meet them. He knew in the pit of his gut the biggest hurdle would be James, there was no doubt about that. But his brother had accepted his message and extended the invitation.

So... progress?

Michael was nervous in her own way, she did a better job of hiding it. He found himself slipping into civilian life quicker than he anticipated. He needed to remain sharp but not on edge. This was a festive family gathering after all, not the bow of a Klingon bird of prey.

 _Might as well be,_ he thought.

When they arrived, Jane was on the porch finishing some Christmas decorations in an old earth style, retro was in as far as Christmas on earth was concerned. She waved to them as they exited their transport. Her eyes were black but warm and welcoming, her dark hair had many streaks of perfect white. She was short and worked with her sleeves rolled up.

Gabriel knew instantly why his brother had married her; she was feminine, delicate, but what their father would've called _, "good pioneer stock"_. James had always admired a woman who wasn't afraid to get their hands dirty, the type of woman who could wear a sundress to a barn dance with a pair of cowboy boots, then beat your ass at horseshoes.

"Gabriel, Michael, welcome!" Jane said invitingly, she embraced them both separately, a sisterly hug.

"It's great to finally meet you," Gabriel said.

"James is inside with Kat and the boys, don't mind Hunter." Jane said over her shoulder, showing them into the house.

Michael noticed Gabriel lapse for a moment.

"Hunter?" He questioned, and Michael realized there must be some significance or context she was missing.

Jane nodded, opening the front door and ushering them inside, gesturing to the enormous black german shepherd watching with dark eyes and a black snout on the porch, hidden from view.

"He's big but friendly," Jane assured them as the couple entered the centuries old Lorca ranch house.

Inside, there was laughter from the den and Gabriel felt like he was eighteen again, coming home from doing god knows what. Kat's laughter mingled with his brother's, coupling with the younger laughter of the nephews he had never even known existed until a few years ago.

Michael felt incredibly intrusive, like she didn't belong. If Gabriel felt like a black sheep, what did that make her exactly?

Jane told them to leave their luggage by the stairs and walked into the den, Gabriel lagged behind Michael for a moment.

"Come on." She said quietly, but she held a supportive tone in her voice. "You're a captain of Starfleet and the Federation," she began gently, taking his hand in hers. "A war and combat veteran, you can do this."

Gabriel took a deep breath and nodded. She was right. There was nothing to fear in that room. No one was going to pull a phasor on him, there were no dead parents waiting to jump out of a corner and haunt him, no severed limb or broken hovercraft.

But that didn't stop the anxiety from conjuring some tasteless images. The worst of the worst, never the best.

Squeezing her hand in his, they walked side by side into the den.

"Here they are," Jane said smiling, standing beside James who rested in their father's old handmade wooden and leather chair.

Gabriel's eyes fell to his brother first, out of habit and because he needed to face him first. It had never been like looking in a mirror, despite their physical similarities. It had always been like looking at a mask, something a child made to play dress up. Nearly complete, but something was always missing.

James had grown a little in the waist but he was still fit, the ranch keeping him in shape over the years. His hair was grayer, his skin tanner, his hands made rough from daily labor he insisted on doing himself.

The bionic leg, covered by his trousers.

"Brother." James said first, lifting a glass to him.

"James."

Jane wouldn't allow the silence to be prolonged any further.

"Gabriel, Michael, these are our sons Nathaniel and John." The kind middle-aged woman said, using her hands as tools of introductions. Gabriel reached out and shook their hands, as did Michael.

They were the spitting image of their father, but not Gabriel. It was strange how that came to be. It was their posture, body language, their vernacular.

Their accents not as muddled as Gabriel's was from living in space and near and around varying different species.

"Stayin' long, Uncle Gabriel?" The young John asked, attempting to make conversation by taking an obvious que from his mother. Katrina kept to the background, nursing her drink near the old fireplace decorated with picture frames on the mantle and an antique spinning wheel near it.

"Just for Christmas," Gabriel paused and glanced at his brother again, waiting.

"Or longer if ya like." James finished and he rose from his chair, no obvious limp, as if he never had lost a leg at all.

"Michael, you're quite the radical," James said calmly and she felt Gabriel tense, his hold on her hand contracting around her own. "But we like those in this house." The other Lorca smiled broadly.

"I've heard in your youth you were quite profound yourself, Mr. Lorca," Michael countered, holding her own, letting Gabriel _know_ she wasn't intimidated by family troubles or some need for her to right a passage in the Lorca familial tome.

Katrina smiled around her glass.

"Oh, and what have you heard?" James asked, putting an arm around his wife's waist.

"Only that the next time you feel the need to create artificial worms in your brother's bed, perhaps you should try spiders instead. He hates spiders. Just a suggestion."

James barked out a laugh without missing a beat, pointing a finger at her.

"I like her." He commented. "Enough small talk, I know we all hate it. Gabe, help me in the barn."

Releasing Michael's hand he smirked at her before kissing her cheek.

"Don't forget your eyes." She reminded him and he nodded, removing the hypopen from his pocket and dousing his eyes before exiting the house. The heat and brightness of the Texan sun was wreaking havoc on his damaged eyes, but he would manage. For family and mending the broken ties.

"A bit young," James said when they were alone, walking from the house to the barn.

"That's not why I'm with her." Gabriel assured his brother who shrugged.

"Not judgin'. Jane is five years younger than me and she has no problem pointin' it out."

Entering the barn eight out of the ten stalls were occupied by mares and one stallion stud.

Beautiful specimens each of them.

"Taz is in season, third fole." James said gesturing to the chestnut mare in the fifth stall. She was tall, all leg, and wide with her unborn young.

"The place looks great, JJ." Gabriel said, looking around the wide space, the high arched ceiling, the smell of hay and manure wafting over him and enveloping his senses.

"Can we clear the air before we really start over?" James asked simply. Gabriel sighed and nodded, he was ready for this. He kept telling himself he was, but he knew his brother. He would go for the jugular first, that's what he would do.

"Why didn't you come for the funeral? Either of them." James asked point black.

Alarm bells sounded in Gabriel's head, the need to get out and run away like he had done before was palpable. He rubbed his mouth, his upper lip curling and his teeth clenching.

"I was-"

"Don't say on assignment." James cut in, he leaned against the stall, crossing his arms.

"Goddamn it, James." Gabriel said turning his back and flinging his arms in annoyance.

"Come on, we gotta do this." James encouraged.

"They wouldn't have wanted me there." Gabriel defended and James spat, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Bullshit. I know mama kept in touch, maybe not dad, but she _never_ would've not spoken to ya."

 _A mother's love runs deep,_ no. She hadn't forgotten him, she did stay in touch. He just didn't always answer.

Gabriel wasn't proud he hadn't come home for his parents funerals. They had happened back to back. Broken heart syndrome the doctor had chalked it up to.

 _One too many,_ Gabriel thought.

Dad had passed first, heart attack, sudden and he had been alone. Mama shortly after, in her sleep, peaceful but alone.

"I couldn't..."

"Yeah?" James asked, waiting.

"I couldn't face you. Any of you. I admit that I selfishly cut you all out. But you didn't come when I was wounded-"

"You would've wanted me to?" James said incredulously.

Gabriel dared not answer that. He changed the subject instead.

"I wanted to make peace," he began, his voice breaking. "I lost a lot out there. But not nearly as much as I lost here. I'm trying to make it right, JJ."

James sighed heavily, hanging his arms over a stall door.

"You always won anyhow," James said weakly. "You got Kat, the grades, the trophies..."

"Yeah, but only because I was in your damn shadow."

James chuckled and shrugged.

"And in the end you still managed to fuck it up with her," James said sadly, shooting him a narrow glare.

Gabriel hung his head. James had been after Kat the moment he clapped eyes on her, before there was even a conception of whether or not Gabriel had any feelings for her. He would never admit it, not out loud even though the injured parties all knew it, that he had only wanted her because James had first.

"Yeah, I did," Gabriel said, coming to lean beside his brother. "I've made it right with her. Time to do right by you."

"Well, you can start by helpin' me with this mare, she's due any day. Unless of course those lilywhite Starfleet hands are opposed to some real manual labor." James teased.

"I get my hands dirty plenty." Gabriel assured his other half.

The twin grinned, but it was almost melancholy.

"Don't we all?" James added.

X

Michael offered to help in the kitchen but as soon as the words left her mouth she realized she had no idea how to cook. Anything. Period. End of story. She was a replicator raised child. Jane preferred things the old fashioned way, only when it came to festive gatherings of course and baking.

Nate and John took a keen interest in her. She found out the younger was planning on applying to the academy, with his father's blessing. Nate decided he wanted to be a veterinarian and expand the estate with his father's guidance. If this were two years ago, perhaps Michael would've attempted to recruit them both to Starfleet. But time and wisdom changed her. She encouraged both of their pursuits equally.

Jane gently directed Michael back into the den, she had asked Michael to hand her a wire whisk and the First Officer had simply stared dumbfoundedly at her.

In the den, the german shepherd lay at Kat's feet. She was nestled in James' chair and she asked Michael to sit with her.

Upon closer inspection of the off duty admiral, Michael felt a twinge of jealousy. Not out of concern or fear for her relationship, but something else. The bond Kat had cultivated with the Lorca family left Michael feeling like an outsider. The place Admiral Cornwall held in their hierarchy created a bubble of envy within her. The memories they shared, the laughs and adventures they had made. There was more than one family photograph where Katrina Cornwall was present.

"We go back a long way," Kat commented when she noticed Michael gazing at the photographs.

"You're quite close with them." Michael answered.

"You need to relax, Michael. Your anxiety is plain as day to someone like me."

Michael lowered her eyes at her steaming mug of hot cider, the taste reminded her of Vulcan; spicey and potent.

"It's... it's just I've never experienced this before. Meeting a boyfriend's family. I feel alien." She raised the mug to her lips and blew the steam away.

Kat sighed.

"It takes some getting used to. But they're a fair bunch. I'd be more worried about Hunter here." Kat said, rubbing the thick ears of the shepherd who leaned into the touch. A large pink tongue licking the palm of the admiral. The affection was crystal clear, this dog knew Katrina well.

"Why did Gabriel seem surprised by his name?" Michael couldn't help but ask.

Kat smiled, a look of remembrance passed over her.

"It was Gabe's nickname when we were young. Ed, his dad, gave it to him in a fit of rage. He got into trouble again, with James at the center of it of course. And his dad bellowed, _you're always huntin' for some new crazy adventure_. And it just stuck."

Michael smiled, she tried to imagine it. It was easier than she thought. She drew inspiration from the pictures that decorated the ancient walls of the house. One caught her eye; Katrina rode a black, wide stallion in the pen before the force field fence was installed and leaning with their arms over the wooden posts were Gabriel and James. They must have been eighteen or nineteen but they smiled the same way, looking at Katrina the same way...

Side by side, in that moment frozen in time forever, Michael couldn't tell them apart.

What else had those boys got up to, long before Michael was even born? What had they seen that turned them into the men they were today? Who had Katrina Cornwall been before career and admiralty ruled her life?

"I want you to know, Michael," Kat said leaning forward in her chair. "Despite whatever has happened in the past, I've never seen Gabriel this... _jubilant_ in years. Not since before the Buran, even further back before the accident. I think you're good for him."

For some reason Katrina's validation of Michael's place in Gabriel's life seemed to relieve the majority of her anxiety. Like a weight had been lifted. That someone else could see what she was trying to achieve with him. Not to change him, but to better him by showing him the best parts of himself.

Wasn't that what everyone should strive for in a relationship?

Michael clinked her mug to Katrina's and the younger woman asked the admiral to tell her old stories of her youth and of Gabriel.

X

Christmas had been a success. Gabriel could have done without the mare giving birth and ruining a pair of trousers but other than that, peace had been made. He felt better about his life, his choices and the relationship he was attempting to salvage with his brother. He still held onto some regret but with his new found rapport with his brother he believed they could grow to a better understanding.

The only tense moment had been during dinner when the argument of whether or not war was ever the only option came up. Michael had attempted to play peacemaker but Jane and Kat quickly and quietly exited the room and she had followed suit. It was a tense ten minutes before suddenly the dining room had erupted in laughter and the tension dissipated.

He sang with his brother drunkenly, both of their significant others had to pry them away from the piano for fear they might destroy it with their clumsiness.

He chuckled at the memory.

But now Gabriel sat on a transport to Vulcan, reminiscing about the best Christmas he had celebrated in years. The comfort of the memory blanketed him from his nervousness.

It was just a question, he was ready to argue with Ambassador Sarek if it came to that. He might lose, but he would try. Michael had given him a few pointers and he wished she was going to be there with him. But he could do it, he had faced worse threats than a simple "no" from a Vulcan before.

The only trouble was, Gabriel felt the same way he felt before a fight, when he was outnumbered in battle. But he couldn't give orders, he couldn't make Sarek see how much he cared for Michael. He could only hope the Vulcan simply knew and could be convinced.

Gabriel knew his last resort was the one thing Michael explicitly told him _not_ to resort to. There was no way in hell the captain could appeal to Sarek's humanity since he lacked it. He had no emotional sentiment attached to her at all. Therefore, it was useless to try.

Michael's list went as follows:

 _Don't get emotional, he won't understand or appreciate it._

 _Don't get angry or defensive._

 _In fact, it's best if you try not to show any emotion at all._

 _Don't call me your "girlfriend, lover, darling, love, sweetheart" or any other monikers that incite affection._

 _Speak of admiration but not adoration._

 _Speak of skills, but not worship._

 _Speak of my value because of my knowledge and what I have achieved._

Gabriel hated the way it all made her sound. It made her sound like she was a prize or property. He had made this very argument to her.

" _It's not, it's seeing my value as an individual that goes beyond base emotions and desires."_ She had told him gently. " _If Sarek sees you as just some hot blooded male choosing his primal instinct to spread his seed- don't look at me like that- over the well being and accomplishments that I have obtained over the course of my life he won't see you as a valuable candidate to marry his ward. And please, use the word 'ward' over 'daughter'. I am_ not _his daughter."_

Gabriel injected his eyes with an extra dose of his hypopen. The descent to Vulcan had been blinding with only one.

He was given a spartan living space in the Starfleet embassy. He would've liked to site see, take in his surroundings, walk the paths Michael had as a child and youth. But there was little time for that. And Sarek was a on fixed schedule.

Arriving at the ambassador's home he was greeted by Amanda. She welcomed him with a kind smile and offered him tea.

"I must warn you, it's rather different from earth's." She said as he raised it to drink, but he paused and lowered it.

"How was your holiday?" Amanda asked as they waited for Sarek.

"Festive," he answered dumbly and he gritted his teeth.

What was it about this woman that made him nervous? Those piercing, all knowing eyes didn't help. They reminded him of Michael, despite there not being any genetic evidence to prove she inherited it from Amanda.

Thankfully the small talk was cut short as Sarek made his entrance and asked to see the captain in his study.

The Vulcan offered him a place to sit across from his desk, where Sarek gracefully lowered himself.

"It is good to see you, Captain Lorca," Sarek began, cupping his hands on his lap. "I must admit it was unusual to hear of your request for an audience."

"Yes, well, this is a... personal matter." Gabriel began, trying to keep in line with Michael's list of do's and don'ts.

"Please, speak freely." Sarek encouraged, bringing a cup of tea to drink quietly.

"I have come to ask for your d-... _ward's_ hand in marriage." Gabriel got it out, calmly. It was well practiced. Sarek swallowed audibly but there was no other tell.

"Curious. I do believe it customary on both our worlds to first ask a father's permission to _court_ their child or ward. Am I to presume correctly you have already done that?"

Gabriel thought quietly to himself, that was certainly a loaded question and indelicate as well, for a Vulcan. The obvious implication floated in the air above them.

"You are correct." Gabriel answered simply. He fought against dealing with Sarek in ways he had dealt with anyone else with authority that might challenge him. But this wasn't just anyone.

It was Sarek of Vulcan, Ambassador to Starfleet and the Federation. His authority stretched far and wide, across worlds and galaxies. His influence could mean the beginning or end of anything he saw fit. In truth, he might be one of the most important figures he had ever met.

"And why should I give such a blessing? You have not known Michael long." Sarek said, avoiding the simple yes or no Gabriel was hoping to receive.

"We are extremely like minded, she and I. I value her abilities and accomplishments, she is a competent officer as she is a woman." Gabriel waited for Sarek's response, which was delayed.

The Vulcan was thinking.

"Well said," Sarek began again. "However," he placed a hand on his desk as if to rise but he didn't. "What sort of future could you provide for her?"

"If we were to marry I could join her on the Hecate."

"As what?"

"As her spouse."

Sarek gazed at Gabriel and for the first time while having a conversation with a Vulcan, who were the epitome of self control and emotional denial, did he see a flicker of something akin to... "you're full of shit".

"Forgive me, Captain Lorca, but you've never struck me as a man to sit idly by." Sarek said. "I have seen your war record, I have seen you in command. To simply toil your hours and life away on a starship not captained by you seems impossible, in my eyes."

Gabriel knew there was more than a little bit of truth in Sarek's words. They were heavy, fat implications he hadn't wanted to think about. It would be torture to simply be a... _passenger_. A civilian. He wouldn't even need to wear the uniform. He felt a wave of nausea approaching, but he bolted it down.

 _Composure, self restraint..._

"It would be an adjustment-"

"It would be torture. For yourself and for Michael and eventually resentment would be born."

Gabriel's hand flexed against his knee, his anger was rising. He wished Michael was at his side.

But if he couldn't deal with this alone he couldn't do anything. He needed to be able to be with Michael but stand on his own two feet. He was, as she put it before seeing his family again, a war and combat veteran. He was a decorated officer and at one time had been proud to serve the Federation and Starfleet.

But he would not let pride and vanity starve him of his chance to convince Sarek of his devotion to Michael.

"And as I am privy to such alterations of Starfleet and Federation regulations, it would take a special circumstance for you to join her," Sarek continued. "This is, as you would say on earth, a hope and a prayer."

If this were any other situation Gabriel would be pacing now, working out his rage with action instead of sitting here trading reasons whether or not he and Michael should get married.

"Do you care of her?" Sarek asked and Gabriel frowned.

"Would I be here if I didn't?"

"You've given perfectly excellent reasons as to why you admire her character and accomplishments and value. However, in circumstances of the heart, humans tend to be far more sentimental. And yet you are... subdued."

"I believed appealing to your logic and reason was better than wearing my heart on my sleeve." Gabriel answered with a light chuckle.

"Did she coach you, Captain?" Sarek asked, his head inclining forward slightly. Gabriel smiled as if he had been found out and nodded. He wondered if the Vulcan meant to be humorous, he supposed not.

"Do you... love her?" Sarek dared to ask and Gabriel met the Vulcan's eyes, nodding again.

"Very much, ambassador."

Sarek sighed deeply and stood.

"When I married she who is my wife her parents had been dead some time. I never had to stand and potentially face rejection from a guardian or parent. She simply said yes. I appreciate you coming here in person, the respect is not unnoticed. But," Sarek paused and Gabriel felt a sinking feeling. Like the floor was about to fall out from underneath him.

"This requires some thought. I do not wish to prolong your agony but my daughter's future does matter to me."

Gabriel nearly choked on the word Sarek had used and the one Michael explicitly warned him _not_ to use.

"You... you called her your daughter." Gabriel pointed out and the Vulcan's eyes seem to search the room before falling on the captain again.

"Excuse me, captain, I... misspoke. I am afraid I must leave this here for now. I apologize for sending you back to earth without an answer. You shall have it assuredly."

It was the fastest meeting Gabriel had ever partaken in. He got some rest in his living quarters and prepared for the journey home the following day, sending a transmission of the events to Michael. She would receive them some time in the middle of his journey home. He hated the lag.

Gabriel didn't know if he should be confident or defeated.

 _Damn pointy eared sons of bitches,_ he thought bitterly as he boarded his transport. He went over ideas and plans he had for the new semester after the holidays and winter break. It was gruelling and he kept torturing himself over what Sarek had said.

It would be tormenting, purely, to live on a starship without a purpose. He had always had a purpose. But he believed he could reconcile that Michael could fill that role.

Gabriel marveled at the way recent events had changed both himself and the worlds around him. War brought people together as much as it tore them apart. He assumed he might never have even met Michael had their paths not crossed in such a bombastic way.

 _Love born out of war,_ he thought to himself.

He closed his eyes, relaxing on his cot, propping his head up with one arm.

Gabriel slept so peacefully that when the red alert sounded he didn't wake straight away. He was getting slow, letting his guard down. If only he had known now was the time and place to stay alert and ready for a fight.

 **AN: Hello darlings! I'm back from my mini vacation, I hope you like this chapter. It's a little sappy but don't worry... darkness is coming. ; )**


	12. PART TWELVE: Prism of the Mind

PART TWELVE

Prism of the Mind

Duty rosters were among some of Michael's favorite tasks to complete. She delved into it, head first. She paired the most likely crewmen who would and could work well together, but she never picked favorites. She accommodated where she could, but she rarely gave into peer pressure. It was good to be in space again, albeit she lamented she was so far from Gabriel. She had received his transmission, he seemed defeated in his meeting with Sarek.

Michael would send him a response after her duties were complete. It had been five days since they had seen each other, five days since their two weeks of paradise had to end. It had been magical and beautiful. She felt herself tickled by the memories they had made together and she yearned to be near to him again.

The comm to her quarters chimed, without looking from her tablets she tapped a button.

"Burnham, here." She answered primly, flicking the stylus between her fingers.

"Burnham, my ready room please." Captain Colt said, her voice sounded urgent. Michael immediately dropped what she was doing and quickly but professionally made her way to Captain Colt's ready room.

There was no red alert, so there was no immediate danger. Not even a soft yellow alert.

Once arriving at the captain's ready room, Michael was shocked to see a hologram of Admiral Cornwall also present and both women looked... grave.

Terribly, terribly grim. Michael felt like she had been punched in the gut.

The doors slid closed behind her, she had to force herself to walk through the threshold.

"Burnham," Captain Colt said and the first officer came to stand beside her captain at attention as the admiral prepared to address them.

Admiral Cornwall wasted no time. Through the blue glare of the hologram, her eyes looked swollen.

A strange sense of foresight gripped Michael...

 _Gabriel..._

"We've received a transmission from Vulcan. The... the transport carrying Captain Lorca and eighty other civilians was attacked by a rogue Klingon bird of prey. There were no survivors."

A hand gripped Michael's.

Captain Colt... kind, compassionate, motherly and charitable.

Admiral Cornwall: steadfast, sympathetic, bold...

Michael Burnham: sunken, hollow... _destroyed_.

Michael's bottom lip quivered against her will, her eyes watered, her chest felt tight within her uniform.

"Michael?" Admiral Cornwall said her name carefully.

"Is... is there a body?" Michael asked, looking through the admiral's head to the wall.

"There was. DNA match but..."

"What?" Michael snapped, losing her professionalism in the tornado of her emotions.

"It was mutilated."

When Michael had seen Philippa die, she felt a piece of her die too.

Upon hearing of Gabriel's death she _felt_ dead herself. A limb had been severed, the red fleshy organ that resided in her chest stopped for a moment, stopped for _him_. It became concave, barren.

" _How do you feel?"_

" _Whole."_

The words they had said only to each other filled her with more pain she had ever felt before. They had once brought her comfort, that they completed each other in cosmic soulful ways. But now... they brought her only a crippling wreckage.

Captain Colt felt Michael shaking and took her shoulders in her hands and turned her to face her, but Michael's head was hung. Quietly whimpering, sobbing painfully low.

"Michael?" Captain Colt said delicately. "What do you need?"

Raising head, her jaw set and tears falling from her eyes, Michael spoke,

"I need... to see him."

X

The body was... horrifying. Exactly what Gabriel had been trying to spare his crew of the Buran from. Michael felt sickened, it was pathetic and terrible to see him like this. The face was hardly a face, his left arm missing... his jaw slack from being broken.

Touching his hairline, Michael fought back another choked sob. The flesh was mushy like a bruised and rotted peach.

They had been so close... they were nearly there. The last transmission sent to Gabriel was from Vulcan, Sarek had given him permission. It was hurtful in many ways. That they should have been so close to what they had wanted only for it to be snatched away.

There was no warp trail left behind by the time rescue had arrived at the destruction of the transport. No trace, the trail was cold.

"His eyes..." Michael said quietly, the coroner stood behind her.

"I'm sorry, Officer Burnham, there's just... too much damage. But it's him, I'm sorry."

Michael had hoped it was some sort of trick, that this wasn't _her_ Gabriel. Not her captain who had saved her from the fire. Not the man who had risked his life and career for her. Not the man she loved.

He didn't deserve this. He deserved peace, with her. He deserved better, he always wanted better for everyone else. And this was how life repaid him, beaten to a pulp, savaged and left to die in the coldness of space.

 _What more can they take from me?_ She thought.

Katrina had come with her, they were docked at Starbase 51.

"Can I get you anything?" Katrina asked as they entered Michael's quarters.

"No." Michael answered, but it wasn't true. She wanted the heads of the Klingons who did this.

She _wanted_ revenge. She _desired_ **retribution** for what they did to him. Her lover, her man, her _captain_.

"Michael, I'm here for you..." Katrina went on to tell her that if she needed anything to contact her. That it wasn't healthy or would do her any good to be alone. But who could she be with? Perhaps eventually she and the admiral could be in some way, friends. But she would still rather be alone.

Who else? Her family on Vulcan? No, that would be too awkward. Tilly... no, she wouldn't understand. Philippa would've understood.

Who else...?

The Lorcas on earth? She supposed she would eventually have to face them. Christ, what will they feel now, after peace had been made?

Michael sat in the shower, her legs curled to her chest tightly, her arms wrapped around them.

It was easy to slip into the metaphorical jacket of despair, to allow herself to believe he really was dead. The evidence had been right in front of her, on a cold sterile slab of steel, unable to look at her with dead eyes but visible all the same.

The evidence was bloody, bruised and swollen. It was in the morgue of Starbase 51. It was there, lying dead and waiting.

 _Come and see, is it really me?_

Michael stayed in the steaming hot as it could get water. She attempted to piece herself together, make herself whole in a matter of hours. But it was fruitless. She was naive to think she could be repaired so easily.

How can you truly cope with grief, with loss? Philippa hadn't been easy, but she had made peace with her mistakes. But only because Gabriel had been there to sew her together again.

Gabriel was her heart. As if someone had taken a knife to her mind, cutting it into pieces to rearrange them into a sick misshapen copy of its former self.

It would not do to sit and wait for something to come that wasn't.

As the days ticked by, she returned to earth and to Bethesda Estates where a family mourned a brother and an uncle. Gabriel had left a will, but it was years old.

It was read by Katrina to Michael and the family. She stood away from the group, feeling more an outsider than she had in her whole life. She had never mourned with a family over the loss of a loved one. Philippa had come close, but this was deeper.

" _In the event of my death in the line of duty or otherwise I should wish to be cremated and part of my ashes spread across the black void of space and the other to go to my family on earth. Tell James I'm sorry, I hope we made peace,"_

James choked up at that moment, hardly able to stand it as he supported himself on his wife's smaller frame.

" _I doubt I'll be married when my death occurs. So, I shall pass all my worldly possessions to the only partner I ever had who still to this day, I hope, is my trusted and loyal friend, Katrina Cornwall. Divide them up amongst my family as you see fit, Kat. I hope my death meant something, I hope it does not bring you anguish. I wish to be remembered for my service, for attempting to carve a path. My only regret, at the moment, is that I will not be alive to see if my efforts were fruitful or in vain._

 _Godspeed, good luck and maybe I'll see you amongst the stars."_

It was short, brief. Afterwards, Katrina took Michael aside.

" _I want you to divide what he left behind,"_ Katrina had said, holding Michael's hand as she spoke. The younger woman trembled and shook her head.

" _I... I can't-"_

" _Yes, you can. You're strong, Michael. You will weather this storm."_

But even as Michael slept in Gabriel's childhood room, which had been redecorated and redesigned for one of his younger nephews, as she went through boxes and crates of his youth, she felt the storm that surrounded her darken further.

Weeks moved past her in a daze. She slept longer, felt sick to her stomach, she couldn't stomach food. She isolated herself amongst Gabriel's things. Whatever he had left behind at the academy was being shipped to Bethesda Estates.

One day, James knocked on her open door. She sat on the bed, amongst pictures and children's toys.

"Can I come in?" He asked gently, seeing him was hard. Another reminder that _her_ Gabriel was gone and this man who looked like him wasn't hers.

It brought Michael back to the _other_ place for a moment...

"Yes." She answered numbly. He sat on the edge of the bed, looking over what she had in front of her. He smiled, picking up a tattered photograph.

"School photo, god," James said with a sigh. "Come with me." He dropped the picture to the quilt. Michael shrugged.

"I'd rather stay here." She said, the subtext clear: "I'd rather be close to him".

James reached out and took her hand, his own dwarfing her small palm.

"Please."

James brought her to the barn, the smell of manure almost made her gag. Her stomach was doing flip flops. He approached a stall and told her to look in.

Inside was a brown and white colt, his mother close by.

"That's the colt Gabe helped deliver last you were here," James told her. "I haven't named him yet. I thought maybe you'd like to."

Michael took another step closer, it was the nearest she had ever been to a horse, let a lone a live farm animal.

"I've never named anything," she said, as if there were some trick to it. James chuckled.

"Come watch him run, maybe somethin' will come to ya."

James told her to go outside to the pen and he opened the stall door, leading both mother and colt outside. He let them run wild and they played, neighing and kicking up dirt.

James stood beside her, watchful of the force field. Michael felt dizzy in the Texas sun.

"Anythin'?" He asked after a few minutes silence. Michael only watched how graceful the colt's legs were, how they were born to run. She envied his freedom, his carefree demeanor. He was playful yet cautious and stayed close to his mother. He was energetic and brave.

"Valor." Michael decided, looking to James, for approval or... something else, she wasn't sure. He simply took her hand and nodded.

"Valor."

Inside, later that same day, Michael took ill in the bathroom upstairs for the third time that week. Jane came to her side, taking her temperature and putting her to bed.

"Any fainting?" Jane asked, taking her blood pressure. Michael shook her head. "Irritability?"

Michael scoffed at the question.

"Given the circumstances?" Michael said rhetorically. Jane nodded.

"Loss of appetite, dizzy, nausea, irritability." Jane repeated the symptoms and the other woman nodded quickly.

"I suppose it's a clear sign of the horrors I am subjected to." Michael said gloomly. Jane made a face and shook her head. "What then?"

"Well," she began but then paused, she looked like she was giving bad news... or, good? The woman was terribly hard to read at the moment. "Michael, I think you should take a pregnancy test."

Rearing up in bed Michael shot a finger in Jane's face, startling the woman.

"No, no," she rose from the bed, too quickly and had to sit back down again with Jane's guidance.

"Michael, were you on any birth control-"

" _Yes-_ _no_. No, before I was. Not when..." She buried her face in her hands and she felt like she wanted to vomit again. Her stomach felt like her intestines were being pulled on, her arms and legs filled with jelly.

"Please, Michael, you need to relax. I'm assuming pregnancy isn't out of the realm of possibility?" Jane asked kindly. Michael nodded her head, her face in her face.

"Come on, I can do one here. It's painless-"

"I don't care about pain!" Michael shouted, jerking herself from of the woman, a hand going over her stomach. She doubled over a dresser and smashed her hand against the wood.

"I don't want to be pregnant... I can't do that." Michael said sadly. Jane rubbed her back and took her into her arms, although Michael struggled she eventually gave in.

"With death comes life, Michael," Jane said and the young woman didn't want to hear it, but she listened anyway, there was nothing else to do. "And if this is a new life, this is a new path. Carve it any way you wish, but do not lose hope."

X

An explosion echoed in his ears and he groaned, his chest was on fire, his limbs shaking. He heard screaming from far away... he couldn't see. He could only make out vague impressions, his ears squealed with a high pitch, as if someone were drilling into his brain. He mouth and throat were dry, ragged and raw.

 _Where am I? Who... am I?_ He thought worriedly. He felt around for a wall, he found one. He pulled himself to his feet, the light grew brighter and he yelled in pain. His vision still blurred and his eyes begging for darkness.

He heard a woman's voice... far away, was she in the same room or was his mind playing tricks on him? An invisible mirage...?

 _You are... you are..._

"I am what!" He shouted into the obscure space. His voice echoed back at him, he was below ground, he could smell earth and water. He wasn't on a ship... he knew that much.

 _Beginning, middle, end..._

"What?" He asked the nothingness, his voice had whispered those words and the female voice was wrapped around them. He swallowed and rubbed his eyes, leaning his back against the wall.

"You're awake." Another voice said, close but perhaps feet away.

He tensed and put his hands up, ready for a blind fight. There was a short laugh, a different voice, deep and guttural, like an animal.

"It took us a long time to find you." The deeper voice said in a strange accent, it sounded familiar, but it was like the aftermath of a deep dream... it was all beginning to muddy and fade.

"Where am I?" He demanded.

"You don't know?" The male voice asked, mysterious and patronizing. "Oh, right, you don't know anything. We made sure of that."

His heart pounding in his chest he listened for any clue he could. Their voices echoed, so the room was large but empty. He wasn't chained or bound, but there was most likely a force field.

How did he know these things?

Force field, ship...

"It will do you no good to try to fight," the deeper voice said, there was movement and he moved further against the wall, his vision slowly coming back but everything was blotchy.

"Who are you?" He shouted.

"Your captors. Your tormentors, anything we want." The male voice answered. "You took our glory from us. We shall take we want from you."

Whatever light had blinded him before expanded ten fold and he screamed in pain, doubling over, covering his eyes but it wasn't enough. The light was all around him, blinding him further.

"Stop! Stop!" He begged. More laughter, more taunts, more barbs thrown at him. "What do you want!"

"Nothing. We have it. She's broken, your dead, that's all we want," the male voice taunted and it was coming closer. The man who spoke sounded mad, like he was going to snap at any second. "You'll be down here forever, rotting away, like you left _us_ to rot. But we have our victory now, our honor is restored."

The man stopped, and the prisoner didn't know why.

"I suppose the pain is worse because you don't know why," the man continued, his voice strangely softening and becoming more familiar. "But that's the whole point, don't you see? Better to watch you struggle in your agony and not know why... then to have you hold onto your dignity and know who you are. You're nothing, that's what we made you. _Nothing_."

Their were footsteps retreating, the light continued to blind him. He listened as they left.

He curled himself into a ball, attempting to protect himself as much as possible. But it was no use. It was like being inside the sun.

And he still heard that voice, so far away...

 _It is an honor to serve under... under... you are... you are... I_ **love** _you._

Instead of trying to silence the voice, he held onto it. He might be a mad man, or someone in the wrong place at the wrong time, but the man felt this was all meant to be.

One thing he did know for sure without any doubt, and one that chilled him to his bones, was that he was sure his captors had the right man.

X

Michael stared at the ultrasound picture with a perfectly clear mind. Her baby was now eighteen weeks, it was a girl, the GP was sure of it. The train car rattled and shook slightly but her hand remained still, gently holding the image between her thumb and index finger.

A baby girl, a child... a piece of Gabriel survived.

After the initial shock had worn off, Michael accepted it. She had never entertained the idea of fate or even destiny really. But somehow in the weeks that followed the positive pregnancy test Michael felt a sense of design. Something strange and wonderful and terrible had culminated in this singular entity that now resided within her.

The instinctual feelings she had feared she would not possess because of her upbringing were null. She felt protective, she already felt devoted and an unconditional love she had only felt for one other person find a home within her, sitting side by side with her unborn child.

After Gabriel's cremation, the Lorcas had given her the other half of his ashes. They believed they rightly belonged to her. She was given their blessing that should she decide to keep them or spread them over the cosmos as Gabriel had wished was up to her now. He would have been her husband after all.

Amanda kept in touch, and Sarek too in his own way. He had expressed his sympathies and congratulated her on her conception.

" _It is not as I expected or intended, but it is your life after all."_

Michael's foster mother was the more emotional one, she had all but given up on any hope of grandchildren. This was the closest she might ever come to that. Spock had set his sights on his career, and though he had an intended on Vulcan, odds were he would never settle down.

Admiral Cornwall made it her personal mission to keep Michael from returning to solitude. She regularly inquired after her, making arrangements for Michael to work in a lab alongside Lt. Stamets after his months long sabbatical had taken its toll on him.

She was pleased to be back at work in some capacity. She had been given the option to return to the Hecate but she respectively declined.

Michael would never say it, but there was no point in returning to the stars if _he_ was not there to join her. She had made the decision she would return to space only when her daughter was old enough to understand truly how much her father had meant to Michael.

Then, together, they would seek out a far away plot in the vast frontier of the sky and scatter Gabriel's ashes as mother and daughter, truly putting him to rest.

Michael wasn't sure if it was morbid to daydream of such a thing. But it brought her to a place that wasn't really peace, it was something else. A longing for a different future. One she hadn't and couldn't have foreseen.

And yet... all the while she made plans and readied herself for her child's arrival, something nagged at her brain.

Out there, perhaps, in some queer twist of fate, he _was_ still alive.

It haunted her, the image of his body lying still and lifeless upon the coroner's table. But it wasn't for emotional reasons, it was her overactive scientific brain that kept her imagining it over and over again until it was burned in her brain; until it was second nature to think of it.

Michael confided her theories to no one. They would call her mad, they would tell her it was all false hope. There was a body, a positive DNA match. Who else could it have been?

Who else, indeed.

The left arm had been severed, not uncommon in a barbic fight with a Klingon armed with a lethal bat'leth. But it was a clean cut, as Michael remembered. The eyes had been targeted to prevent further examination, again, not uncommon but... it felt strategic. Planned. Known.

The face also seemed particularly beaten and mutilated. But why...? Klingons tended to scatter their torture across the body, leaving no part unscathed. Why focus on such single and somewhat unimportant points of the body when there was a plethora of vulnerable parts that had been undamaged?

It vexed her terribly. Without the coroner's report, there was no way of really knowing anything else about the body, there was no way of seeing the photographs and to truly study them for herself.

But there was someone who could help her...

Michael's train came to a halt and she rose, pocketing the ultrasound picture and buttoning her coat. The city was cold and the hour was early evening.

Doctor Hugh Culbar waited for her at a cafe on the bay and he greeted her happily, embracing her.

"You look great," he said warmly as their scones and coffee arrived, Michael taking decaf.

"Thank you. Paul has told me you've found work at Starfleet Medical." She said, enjoying the small talk, learning to anyway.

"Yes. It's very busy but, honestly, I'm more than happy to be down on earth again." He said with a relieved smile.

"So, boy or girl? Paul, Tilly and I have made a bet." Hugh said, scandalously. Michael gaped at him.

"I never would have pegged you for a betting man." Michael admonished him, playfully. He shrugged.

"I like to live on the edge," he joked.

"It's a girl." She admitted and he groaned, tapping his foot.

"Damn."

"What?"

Hugh chortled and touched her hand.

"I put my money on the wrong horse," he admitted.

"Hugh, I don't want to be rude," she paused, hating herself for steering the conversation towards something so... unseemly, especially since she was having a good time. "I have to tell you why I really asked you here."

Hugh frowned.

"Is everything alright?" He asked, concerned and she loved him for it, she shook her head.

"No. Well, I need a favor."

"Name it."

It took more than a little convincing. He said he was worried about her, that she should talk to someone, that keeping all of her emotions bottled up wasn't healthy. But it was the opposite, Michael had never felt so connected to her feelings before in all her life. She just needed to know. She had to see for herself.

"I promise once I see it I will let it go. I just... I need to make sure." She told him, lowering her eyes and holding his hand.

Hugh sighed and thought before speaking again,

"I'll see what I can do."

X

"Rise and shine, _hu-mon_." Deep Throat threw a metal tray at him and he jumped at the sound, it grated against his ears. He had deduced there was indeed a force field, he had discovered it quite simply. He walked into it and it had knocked him unconscious but at least he knew. His captors had not been happy about that.

Grunting, he felt for the dish and found it. Stale bread again. Just like yesterday and the day before that and the day before that. What else was new?

He wished it was water day. Every other day was water day, every day was a beating. He was surprised that when he was out after a beating that they healed him. That meant they wanted to prolong his agony as much as possible. The only thing they didn't fix, were his eyes.

"Where's the other one?" He asked, breaking off a bit of bread and crushing it between his fingers.

"My companion is indisposed." Deep Throat informed him.

"Shame. He's better company." He made sure the derision was as edible as the bread.

There was a pungent snarl.

"We'll make it hurt more today, I think." They said before departing. He weakly ate the bread and relaxed against the wall. His back ached and his sore eyes throbbed.

 _She's all I have... I'm all she has._

Sliding down the wall, he sat and slowly devoured his bread, making it last.

There was a face that appeared to him in his dreams. Dark, mute, emotionless. But she was beautiful. The voice matched the appearance. A uniform, navy blue. Hair, curly and wistful. Her posture was perfect. Her face... that of a stranger. He didn't know this woman, but he did.

In his dreams he knew every inch of her body and soul. She came to him, reaching for him. Trying to tell him something. Something he couldn't understand, something he couldn't hear. He could hear every other word she uttered inside his head while he was awake, but when sleep came it was muffled and quiet. Like someone had turned the volume down.

He looked forward to see his Celestial guardian every night. That was what he called her, _Celestial_.

What other being could she be?

He didn't know himself or why he was trapped in a hole in the ground somewhere, but he knew one thing: he was meant to be here, but he _would not_ die here.

After finishing his meager meal, he heard the force field disappear and footsteps approach him.

"Miss me?" Male said, he could hear the man rubbing his leather gloved hands together.

"Oh, I sure did, _boy_." He spat his reply. He was hoisted to his feet and with no other words spoken, his daily beating began. But he would take it, biding his time.

 _I won't die here,_ he vowed as each blow found it's target.

X

It had taken days, but Doctor Culbar proved once more what a true and loyal friend he was. The flash drive containing Gabriel's autopsy report remained on her desk for many hours. She paced before it, dueling with herself. She tried reasoning with herself, she weighed her options. This could only lead to disappointment.

Instead, it only strengthened her belief he was alive.

The first person she contacted was Sarek. She needed a more rational mind, one who could show her the flaws and holes in her story. She needed him to scalpel away her theory, show her the insides of it, the infected organs. She needed him to show her the meat on the bones.

Sarek's holographic image stood stoically in her living room space, his hands folded in front of him.

"Have you brought your findings to your superiors?" Sarek asked, his question both startling Michael and fueling her fire.

"No. You're the first person I've told." She said to him, attempting to not appear over eager. Her hand rested on her stomach, gently rubbing it as if to sooth her daughter. As if they felt their feelings were beyond hope, it was indescribable, it was something only the two them shared.

"Logically, it is sound evidence."

From there, with the blessing of Sarek of all people, she brought her findings to the one admiral she had in her pocket.

"Michael," Katrina began mildly, "Don't you think you're just trying to find distractions from what happened?"

Michael hated the way Katrina sounded genuine, she wasn't patronizing her. She was coming from a good place, a place of friendship and concern.

"No," Michael replied, carefully. "I think it is sound."

"It's grief, Michael, I'm feeling the same way."

Michael placed the flash drive on her desk, Katrina's eyes flicked from the device to Michael. A look of, "where did you get that" spread across her features. Almost disappointment.

"Admiral, the evidence points to Gabriel being alive."

Eventually Michael convinced Katrina and the flash drive was inserted into her comm.

"The left forearm was severed, the eyes and face mutilated," Michael said clinically, she had already detached herself because of her belief in the fact that this wasn't Gabriel's body. It was someone else, some pretender. Katrina however hadn't completely dismissed the idea that Gabriel was dead.

"Yes, Michael, I was there." Kat said, visibly uncomfortable.

"Admiral, this is not how Klingons torture their enemies, let alone kill them. These are points of contact that were made with purpose." Michael said, she allowed her words to sink in and slowly Kat leaned forward a little to examine the wounds in front of her.

"The torture would've been spread out over the whole body," Katrina said lowly, almost to herself. Michael could see the other woman disengaging herself from seeing her friend to just seeing a body.

"Exactly. The eyes, the left forearm." Michael said, pointing to the screen. "Gabriel's eyes were badly injured, whoever replaced his body with this cadaver must have known that. Furthermore, why sever the left arm?"

"Perhaps it was during his torture." Katrina theorized.

"No, if this was torture we both know he would've fought and the cut wouldn't clean. And I remembered something. When Gabriel and I were trapped in that _other place_ we encountered a duplicate Buran and another Gabriel Lorca."

"I read the report." Katrina added, crossing her arms and nodding her head slowly.

"Voq posing as Ash was on the real Discovery, and the female Klingon L'Rell was a prisoner. They escaped together when they sabotaged the ship, they were also trapped in that place after Discovery escaped."

"So, what are you saying? That Voq and L'Rell kidnapped this other Lorca, found a way back to our own dimension and... kidnapped the real Gabriel?" Katrina asked, Michael could sense that the admiral was going back to disbelief.

"That is my theory. There's more. The other Lorca had a tattoo on his _left_ forearm. Perhaps it was removed to cover up the fact that our Gabriel doesn't have one."

Katrina licked her lips and thought pensively.

 _Come on, you want to believe, you know it's true,_ Michael thought worriedly.

"It's very convincing, Michael," Katrina began. "But this could be you just wanting to see things that aren't there."

"How can you say that!" Michael asked, confounded by the fact all the evidence pointed to it being true. It seemed like it was obvious to everyone except the people who mattered. Except for Sarek, his belief in her findings still gave her affirmation.

"Because I _want_ to believe and it hurts." Katrina said sadly, not reacting to Michael's anger the way she thought she would. The admiral looked tired, she was holding back tears. She wanted to believe but she wouldn't let herself.

"If there is even a chance to find him we have to take it." Michael said passionately.

"Michael, you need to relax." Katrina said kindly.

Michael knew she was right. It would do her no good to work herself up, she needed to remain calm.

"I told Sarek of what I found and what I believe," Michael admitted. "If you don't believe me, you should know he thinks the data is sound. That should mean something."

She felt defeated and yet she knew she wouldn't stop until she found him. She would find a ship, she would scour the stars until she brought him home. Until he was with her again. Until they were whole again.

"It means more than you think." Katrina told her strongly.

Rising, the admiral tugged her jacket.

"You'll have to present this to the rest of the admiralty and the Federation. We need assured sanction that this was more than a post war attack on a civilian transport ship." Katrina said.

Michael nodded in agreement.

X

The engagement with the admirals and important heads of Starfleet went as she expected. There was arguing over whether or not her evidence could be taken as gospel, her personal and invested interests were called into question, even the mutiny she had been pardoned from was raked up.

The conference room in which the important and immediate congress was called buzzed and drummed with voices attempting to overlap others. Holographic figures also partook, heads of state that were off worlds. Even Ambassador Sarek spoke to vouch for Michael's proof that Captain Lorca was still alive.

"One of our own rots away and we're just sitting here doing nothing!" Argued one admiral, another countered that Lorca was a black mark on the very foundations of Starfleet and the Federation and that they should be glad to be rid of him.

Michael took it all in strides, attempting to protect herself with the fact that one of the most powerful and important Vulcans stood by her and Admiral Cornwall as well.

Sometime during the meeting Michael had to relieve herself, on her way back she took notice of a man walking in the same direction. From the back she couldn't make much of him, but he simply glanced behind his shoulder and offered a warm smile. He walked straight past security and through the conference room doors, tossing and catching a green apple as he did.

Michael halted, strange.

Who was he that could command such importance? It struck her as quite odd and unnerved her.

Upon entering the room she noticed the man again, he spoke to Sarek. There was something familiar about them. Then he took his leave with a polite tilt of his head and took a seat in the back of the room, near the shadows. Watching... listening, but aloof. As if nothing that happened around him mattered.

Seating herself beside Katrina she nudged the admiral with her elbow subtly.

"Who is that?" Michael asked, pretending to make conversation about something else. The man seemed to take no notice of this. He removed a metal blade with a white hilt from his pocket and peeled the same apple.

Katrina stiffened and straightened her back.

"Shit." Katrina said passing Michael a padd and going along with their false chat.

"Then you know him?" Michael inquired further.

"No, no one does. He's a fucking spook. Gives me the creeps."

Katrina was visibly more tense than she had been before. Bureaucrats she could deal with, but Starfleet Intelligence was different; they operated under their own set of rules, and ever since the war the game was quickly changing.

"Agent Richard J. York, or at least that's who he is now," Katrina explained. "Before the war though, the man's a ghost. At the top of Starfleet Intel. He's the one who first informed us about the cloaked Ship of the Dead being revived and the technology being spread across the Empire. He has successfully lead several rescue missions, all with 100% fatalities of the enemy."

Michael scoffed at this.

"Then why haven't I ever heard of him?" She asked and Katrina chuckled.

"Because he doesn't exist."

Michael watched the man who was completely engrossed in his apple, peeling the skin in one long strip, tossing it back like a thick noodle.

"He's old school, a frontier tracker in space. He's old blood, Michael. Like the founders of great Britain old. Some say as far back as William the Conqueror."

Richard J. York never looked up from his fruit, but she knew better. He was taking everything in.

"If he's here, then this is deeper than we thought." Katrina said, a hint of warning in her voice.

"Perhaps we should request his assistance?" Michael suggested and the admiral shook her head.

"If Agent York is here we've already got it and that's not always a good thing."

"But-"

"Michael. He's dangerous. Trust me, please."

Michael let the matter lie, she would not press it further. But when she glanced back to wear Agent York had been seated, he was gone. Only the knife remained. Rising subtly under the pretext for a refreshment Michael went to where he had been sitting.

She picked up the knife, the handle was old but the blade had been replaced at some point. But it wasn't the sharp end of this ancient knife that mattered. The hilt had something carved into it, Latin... a dead language.

 _Sequor te..._

 _ **I follow thee**_ _._

When Michael returned to her quarters to get some rest, the meeting still dragging on, and at the behest of Katrina, she mumbled "lights", rubbing her face tiredly. She removed her coat and arched her back, resting a hand over her belly.

"You really need better security." A voice from the dimly lit apartment. Her body froze, but her limbs worked perfectly fine. One hand resting on the small of her back slowly reached down towards her phasor.

"If you're thinking of shooting me please don't, I mean you no harm." He said and she gritted her teeth.

"You'll forgive me if I don't trust the man who broke into my home." She retorted smartly. He laughed and exited the darkness.

Agent York stood tall, with his hands in his long black coat pockets. He hadn't been here long, the rain on his jacket wasn't dry.

"Computer, lights to 75%." Michael ordered, they immediately rose and Agent York's face was illuminated, he squinted slightly at the alteration and for a moment she thought of Gabriel. She kept her hand on her phasor.

"Commander Burnham, if I wanted you dead you would be dead." He assured her, holding his hands up, removing them from his pockets to show he had no weapon.

"I believe that. But I don't believe you mean me no harm." She shot back and pointed her phasor at him. He sighed deeply.

"We're on the same side." He promised and she shook her head.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I thought your admiral friend told you." He said dumbly and she frowned.

"I read lips. Occupational hazard and quite useful in my line of work." He said with a proud smile.

"You never looked up." She said sure of herself. He meandered a moment or two.

"I'm _very_ good at it." He said and he took a step closer, to which she pointed the phasor more firmly at him. But he wasn't afraid.

"Commander, we don't have time for this. Any minute now the kangaroo committee of beauracrates is going to vote on whether or not to sanction a rescue mission for the return of Captain Lorca. We're losing valuable time." He informed her.

"I'm confident they'll make the right decision." She replied strongly and he shook his head.

"That's where your faith in them is wrong," he told her. "They're going to vote no."

Michael licked her suddenly dry lips, her palms grew sweaty and her brow tickled with perspiration.

"They wouldn't leave him to die like that." She said.

Agent York took another daring step towards her, her phasor didn't falter.

"Yes, yes they would." He guaranteed.

"Then why are you here!" She shouted, her hand pressed harder into her swelling stomach, his eyes shot to it for a millisecond.

"Because I wouldn't. Think of me as your... saving grace. You've gotten a lot of those." He said, nudging the side of his aristocratic nose and smirking.

"I don't understand." Michael said, still not trusting the spook.

"Very well: Starfleet and the Federation will not permit any vessel to go into what, myself and my superiors believe, to be hostile and ravaged Klingon space."

" _Your_ superiors?" She repeated and he nodded.

"Yes. We do not answer to the Federation or Starfleet and all it's... _imbecile_ regulations."

"That's not possible."

"I assure you, it is. We believe in the value of Captain Lorca. We had been hoping to recruit him and yourself. We wish to see him returned."

That wasn't enough though. This time, Michael stepped forward carefully. He watched her calmly with blue eyes that reminded her of Gabriel. She wished he was here, but if he was she wouldn't be conversing with... whoever the hell was standing in front of her.

No. If Gabriel were there, he would be holding her. They would be enjoying their present and making plans for their future. Perhaps Agent York was the devil himself, or maybe he really was her saving grace.

 _Their_ saving grace.

"What do you and your superiors get out of this?" She asked carefully.

"Hopefully two new recruits."

"You have a ship?" She continued, he nodded smiling broadly.

"We have many. We are posted all over various vessels and worlds communicating through a secret network. Even I don't know how many agents there are. But I do know it is vast. And I do know there was a slave trader who encountered two Klingons nineteen weeks ago that fit the description of Voq and L'Rell of House Mokai. I also know this slave trader has a daughter who likes to talk to her hairdresser who is an informant of mine. The slave trader also spoke of a prisoner the Klingons had with them. A blind man."

Michael fell to her knees, pressing a hand to her mouth, the phasor fell to the floor and was forgotten. She rocked herself back and forth.

He was alive! It wasn't just speculation. It was real. She wasn't mad, she hadn't lost her wits. She had known he was alive, she had felt it in her soul.

Once again Voq had tried to take from her, to hurt her, but he failed again. Her grief was lifted, the ashes in the closet tucked and hidden away were not Gabriel's. She no longer had to daydream or imagine scattering them with her grown daughter. No, that day wouldn't come.

Michael felt hands pulling her to her feet.

"It's alright," Agent York promised, she leaned into him and he wrapped an arm around her waist.

"I'm sorry for... for my behavior," she said wiping her cheeks, he took her hands from her face and shook his head slowly.

"It's alright," he repeated, more softly this time. "I'm sure it's an enormous relief."

"You're not like other spooks are you?" She asked him, eyeing him carefully.

Agent York chuckled and thought for a moment.

"You've met many of us?" He joked and she shook her head.

"No. I can tell though."

"You're right. I prefer to act as a gentleman- well, until the moment calls for otherwise."

X

"I bet it hurts, huh?" Male said, he hadn't struck the prisoner in two days. He was trying to get Him to lower his guard. The light, still ever blinding, assaulted His eyes. He was hungry, sleep deprived and angry. But He didn't answer.

His mind told him that, from what he knew of Male, this was a way to get to him. To needle him between the ribs.

"It's still not enough though." Male went on, but He couldn't tell if the voice was still speaking to Him or to himself. Male did that sometimes, he trailed off. He was beginning to tell when Deep Throat was in the room and when they weren't. Male was less likely to get carried away if they were there.

So... Male had a handler. He wasn't the brains of whatever this was. But he was behind it, but also he needed to be controlled.

"We must take everything from you." Male affirmed, his voice wavering ever so slightly. He had a younger man's voice, soft but thorough. He was attempting to be vague and secretive, leaving out the important bits as a taunt.

But He might not know who He was, but He knew what pride was.

"You can't kill what's already dead though," Male continued, the voice rose, as if the man were standing when he had been kneeling. There were light footsteps, pacing.

He could almost see the vaguest impression of a figure moving but it was too difficult to tell.

"What do you do when you finally catch the beast you've been after? How do you let yourself put it out of its misery?"

He couldn't help but laugh at that, and He wasn't sure why.

"What's so funny?" Male demanded, his temper rising, quite easily.

 _Good, he forgets himself when he's angry,_ He thought.

"You," he answered, continuing to laugh. " _My_ misery? You're the one who sounds like you got some problems, bub."

Almost instantly a strong hand wrapped around his throat, pinning him to the wall, he felt cold steel against his cheek and a cut soon formed, blood slicking the blade. It stung, but not as hard as what he had said to Male.

"I gave up _everything_ and I still lost!" Male shouted, spit flying from his mouth and landing on His face.

"Yeah? Tell me, huh, what did you lose!" He shouted back at him, just as strongly.

Deep Throat shouted something from a distance and Male's grip loosened but only by a fraction.

"He needs pain." Male said through clenched teeth.

Deep Throat said more in a language He didn't understand, but it was familiar. Like He had heard it before, and the feelings it conjured only increased his rage ten fold.

"Very well." Male released Him and he gasped for breath. "But soon. I will _carve_ you, human," Male vowed in a panting voice. "I will tear the young from her."

Deep Throat yelled again, it was followed by a snarl and He heard the force field disappear. Male was drug from Him and the footsteps eventually disappeared into an echo then in turn soon faded into a mottling of patterns, sounds and image.

Groaning and coughing, the man straightened himself.

This was beyond any crime he could've committed. This was more than that. It felt inherently personal. But if Male was planning to "carve him" as he put it, he needed to begin thinking of a way out. Playing dead, sick, anything. They wanted him alive, at least for now. He needed to play that to his advantage.

He needed to live, to stay alive and in one piece. Because he didn't know why or how but he felt deeply that he needed to live. Not just for himself, any other man might have given up by now.

But not _him_. Someone was waiting for him... trying to find him. He knew it sounded mad. However, that little voice that kept him sane at night kept telling him to hang on.

Help was coming. _She_ was coming.

The Celestial Woman of his dreams.

X

"How can you just commandeer a vessel like that?" Michael asked Agent York over dinner. He had explained how he acquired the use of a ship called the USS Wolf.

"We have an entire fleet at our disposal," he answered simply. "Quite easy, really."

Michael found the man utterly fascinating. He was very open about what he did for work within and outside of the Federation. He trusted her, or at least knew she wasn't stupid enough to blab or gossip to her friends. Not that she had many to begin with, but the few she had she liked to think she could keep in confidence.

This went beyond that. It went beyond oaths and friendship.

"How big is the crew manifest?" She asked him.

"Thirty two, most of the decks power will be rerouted to more useful means and will be operated by the ship's computer."

"Am I to assume I'll be among the thirty two?" She asked confidently. However, he shook his head, as if it were obvious.

"Absolutely not. Given your condition-"

"I beg your pardon?" Michael shot defensively. He sighed and gently touched her hand.

"Forgive me," he began. "I only meant your compromised in the sense that you have a personal interest. I hand picked this crew, vetted them personally, kept them in total darkness. They have no association with Captain Lorca whatsoever. That is how I operate."

Michael removed her hand from under his. He was rather touchy feely, perhaps there was an attraction. She believed it was mutual. He was handsome in a dashing, British sort of way. He was mysterious, physically fit. But it was purely sexual, there was very little substance. There was no sentiment behind any of it.

And there was no spark. At least not in the way she felt every time Gabriel had touched her.

"I must insist, Agent York." She persisted and he once again denied her.

"And I must _insist_ you let me do my job, Commander."

"I _need_ to be there."

"And I need you safe. Tell me, truly, would Captain Lorca really approve of you flying to his rescue if he knew you were pregnant with his child?"

Michael knew both the long and short version to that question. Gabriel would fly into a rage, he would be more than angry at her. He had risked so much to keep her safe, she would be dishonoring him if she went along on the rescue mission.

The part of space Agent York would be warping into was Klingon space, but it was war torn with internal conflict. The war was still ending, perhaps months even years away from a real truce. But the Empire was even further set apart than before.

It was a power struggle in the smallest vacuum. There was no breathing room, there was no sign of hope. There was no peace on the horizon, not that Michael could see.

"Promise me you'll bring him back." Michael said, meeting Agent York's eyes. "If there is any part of him missing... he may be a valuable asset to you but to me-"

Agent York stopped her.

"On my honor, he _will_ be brought back to you."

 **AN: I like how I began this as a one-shot and... well, now we're here lol Also, I'm picturing JJ Feild as York. Stay tuned! 3 : )**


	13. PART THIRTEEN: Brothers in Arms

PART THIRTEEN

Brothers in Arms

" _We few, we happy few,_

 _We band of brothers_

 _For he today that sheds_

 _His blood with me, shall be my brother."_

Henry V

Richard York had died of a stroke five years ago on earth surrounded by his loved ones.

At that same time, Lt. Edmund Russell was born again, taking the dead man's name. But he hadn't truly been Edmund Russell either. Who he had been and what was written on his birth certificate didn't matter anymore. They were no longer a person who mattered.

Edmund Russell and Richard York mattered. They accomplished tasks, had various skills, commanded respect with very little effort, were easily disguised and distinguished in their respective fields.

At the beginning of the war, Agent Richard York was Lt. Edmund Russell. He had been playing the part quite well when suddenly his facade needed to be extinguished in place of another.

And so it was there that Agent York's real work began. He had already been recruited by Section 31 before even his first year at the academy.

His real identity was unimportant now because he hadn't been important then. But that orphan from Liverpool needn't worry anymore. He had a new family of brothers and sisters now. And they all looked alike but played very different roles.

Agent York was a particular asset. He blended in everywhere he went. He was able to mold himself into anyone; he could be an outcast or the social butterfly. He could be the lone wolf or the pack leader. He was young, strong and capable.

Just the sort of man Section 31 required to lead many of their undercover rescue missions. These rescues came with a catch, a twist and an alternate ending. They didn't go out of their way to rescue just anyone.

If they wanted you back on sacred ground, you needed to be important. And the catch was this: rescue for work. After you were safely returned you were given the incredibly tempting offer to work for an organization that technically on the books didn't exist, have free reign to use whatever means necessary, and be privy to new and experimental technologies the likes of which no one had ever seen.

Agent York had never failed a rescue mission. He had an impeccable record. So, when his superiors assigned him Captain Lorca's case he approached it as any other.

The case was indeed highly intriguing to a man like himself. It had everything. A cover up, murder, bad blood, even a little scandalous romance to make it sweeter.

The moment Richard laid eyes on Michael Burnham in person he realized what drew Captain Lorca's attention. It was more than she was physically beautiful. Richard envied the older officer. He was quite the lucky man. However, Richard couldn't understand why Commander Burnham had been so drawn to the captain in question.

Captain Lorca's war record and personal file weren't ordinary, but... what did she see in him?

Richard didn't have any plans on seducing the woman. He didn't care if she was pregnant, but he knew people well. He knew when a fire had been lit and indeed he saw the flicker of attraction in her eyes. But she was loyal, she loved another. He wouldn't sully that for a dalliance. Perhaps he was more the romantic than his counterparts believed.

No, it was more than a romantic nature. It was brotherhood, code of conduct and chivalry.

You didn't sleep with your brother's intended.

Agent York did truly see himself as a gentleman. He played by a specific set of rules, clear only to himself. While some other agents preferred less than savory methods, he simply used his words. He could beat a confession out, to be sure, but what good did that do in the end?

Richard readied himself for the journey, packing what supply he would need. The contact on _Voraxa_ had sent him their last deep space transmission. The contact, known only to Richard and no one else as Tickle, informed him of the following:

 _No candle lit for blind eyes_

 _Darkness is near but not all around_

 _Tragedy soon_

 _Blades of hot steel_

 _Madness abounds._

The blind man, Lorca, was still alive. His cage was underground. The Klingons were planning to kill him soon. They were heavily armed. Someone was quite mad.

Richard liked the blade, he had a varying and expensive collection himself. Though he believed himself to be a gentleman, when the urgency of the moment required otherwise he desired to make it quick. And he couldn't deny it was also quite personal, killing with a knife. You have to be close to your target, mindful, quick, careful not to harm yourself with your own blade as well as keeping your eyes on your opponent's.

Over a phasor, he packed more knives.

The USS Wolf was decorated with the colors of a privateer, stolen by his alias: Malcolm Treadstone.

His crew were trusted, also wearing the garb of privateers and scoundrels and smugglers. They had false cargo and the weapons had been refitted and two extra torpedo bays had been installed.

Richard York warped into the hostile Klingon territory without a care in the world. He was confident and self assured. He believed in his crew, most of them, if they survived, would be recruited by Section 31. And if they chose to not follow him any further after the mission they were given promotion or whatever else they desired.

He kept his eye out for any special candidates.

Voraxa was a small planetoid once used for mining dilithium crystals, but the planet had proved unsafe and with very few redeeming qualities. But only mining shafts remained, protected by both gravity, atmosphere and force fields alike. Richard admired the Klingons ingenuity. They weren't the dumb, dull brutes most believed them to be.

Richard saw Klingons as highly industrious. He even had a few Klingon contacts during the war. A few of them died on the Ship of the Dead, others fading into the blackness of space, some ceased spying for him for fear it would bring dishonor to their house.

Either way, Richard admired the poetic nature of the Klingon race. But their passion often overroad their sight in many ways. More often than not what they truly lacked was a learnt human behavior: perspective. A willingness to make plans for the future instead of only living for the glory of the present.

 _Berserkers_ , like the ancients of old. Honor bound samurai.

"Captain York, we're approaching the coordinates." An ensign signaled him and he nodded.

"Very well, ladies and gentlemen, you know your roles. You are a crew of hardened, hungry and angry ravagers, murderers and privateers. I expect a good show from each and every one of you." Richard said in a commanding tone that garnished the respect that was so easily given to him.

"How soon to Voraxa?" Richard asked.

"Ten minutes, sir."

"Stop here."

The ship slowed and dropped out of warp.

"Travis, ready the shuttle." He ordered. "Jones, you have the bridge. You know the signal?"

The young woman nodded, rising from her position and approaching the captain's chair.

"Yes, sir." She answered and he nodded.

"Very well. I have given myself a five hour window. Should I return too soon or too late I want you to lock on phasors but do not fire. If I am on schedule, beam us from the shuttle and destroy it."

Richard's orders were accepted and he knew they would follow them. He made his way to the transporter room; his phasor attached to his belt, his knives obscured and hidden on various parts of his body. He adjusted the black mask that covered the lower half of his face.

The last thing he checked to make sure he had: Captain Lorca's hypopen. Four eyes were better than one during an escape.

"Energize." Richard ordered.

X

"There's a ship on sensors." L'Rell informed Voq, he ran to the monitor. It was a standard regulation Starfleet shuttle.

"Life signs?" He asked and she pressed a few buttons but shook her head.

"There are none." She answered.

"Perhaps it's adrift. Looks like it's seen some action." He said, going over the data the computer monitor was feeding him.

"We could scavenge it, rip it for parts." She suggested and he nodded.

"Bring it in."

Connecting their own ship's tractor beam to the hub on the surface it took some time to finally bring the seemingly abandoned shuttle craft through the atmosphere.

Voq took to his makeshift quarters while L'Rell performed the duties of bringing the ship into their ramshackle home.

A pit in the center of an abandoned dilithium mine. Not exactly where he had pictured settling down, even if it were to be temporary. L'Rell had rallied him once again, as she always had. She had given him back his belief when he had doubted his faith.

Whenever he faltered, she brought him back. Every time she promised she would come for him, she did. And yet... that whimpering voice of Ash Tyler, the human, clung to him like a disease. He had sought to remain Klingon, pure and devout, and yet he could no longer be a true man of his own species.

He was a demon. A _**freak**_.

There were no mirrors on Voraxa, he avoided all reflective surfaces. He could not look this stranger in the face... it was not his face.

But still, through it all, L'Rell remained present to guide him through his transition. To aid him in this time of turmoil and suffering. Many nights his nightmares were not his own. They were Lt. Tyler's. Crying out for help, begging to be released from the prison that was his own mind.

They were one body, one mind. One consciousness battling for power. Now and then the Lt. came out, his anger fueling Voq's own. Combined, it was a cyclone of mania. Voq's revenge coupled with Lt. Tyler's abandonment and the knowledge that captain Lorca, a man the Lt. had trusted with his life, betrayed him by taking Michael Burnham as his lover.

There was plenty of rage to go around. But even with using the Lt.'s anger, Voq could still sense the anguish of the human. He didn't believe what Voq and L'Rell were doing to Captain Lorca was right. And yet... there was a strange satisfaction the human male took from seeing the older man weakened and without.

But the conflict was beginning to wain on Voq. He was strong and able to deal with his inner torment, but now another occupied that already cramped space.

And the Lt.'s voice could be loud and agonizing. They haunted each other. Their own worst nightmare come true, living in the flesh.

X

Richard had made sure his crew waited long enough before beaming him to his shuttle. His plan had worked, he had predicted the Klingons plan of action. Knowing they were in need of new parts for their own ship, married to the fact that scavenging was now part of their routine, it had been only a matter of waiting.

As soon as he had gotten the signal from his own ship, hidden on the other side of the planet, that they had finished scanning the shuttle for lifesigns did he ready himself for the next step in his mission.

Extraction was possibly a few long minutes away.

It was at this point that Richard went over his next plan of action: attack would come before extraction. It was a necessary evil. But he had long since ceased feeling anything when he ended a life. There was no time for that. He didn't need to know what their motives were for taking Captain Lorca. He didn't care about their pasts. He didn't care if their mothers hadn't loved them enough.

None of that mattered in the end. None of it mattered to the blades he would use on them if it came to that. And it would, it always came to that. He would make sure of it.

Richard felt the shuttle enter what he assumed was an old hangerbay. Something clamped on and the computer read that the tractor beam was no longer tracking the ship.

Hiding himself, he removed his weapon. The Klingons would either wait to begin scrapping the shuttle or open it immediately, they were desperate so he prepared for the latter.

But nothing happened. Richard didn't panic, he had seen his fair share of surprises. He checked the time, he had given himself five hours. He decided to give himself an hour, if he had calculated correctly that would give him more than enough time to wait out his captors before they decided to crack open the shuttle, rescue Captain Lorca, get out and back on board the Wolf without a moment to spare.

Yes, Richard could wait. But he also knew time was of the essence. Who knew how long Captain Lorca could wait. If the message from his informant were true, the Klingons didn't plan on keeping the captain around much longer.

Just as Richard was beginning to think of possible escape routes, the shuttle doors began to open.

X

"I suppose your memory is beginning to come back a little," Male said conversationally.

The man only grunted and flipped him the bird. He hoped Male knew what the gesture meant; judging by the sarcastic laugh He received, the message went straight home.

"You think this is funny, don't you?" Male asked, obviously vexed and bitter that he wasn't getting the reaction he had hoped for. But He didn't know what Male was expecting anymore. He wasn't about to start crying and begging for his life. He had grown used to the dark and muddled images.

"No, I find it infuriating," He replied after a pause, "But it does me no good bitchin' about it."

He hoped it stung, that the subtext got underneath Male's skin. The prisoner didn't need to wait long for a response,

"So that's it? You've resigned yourself." Male said, his voice spiteful.

"You've given more than enough data for me to mull over and keep me occupied." He replied.

He heard Male rise and begin to pace.

 _Good, lower your guard,_ He thought.

"We've given you _nothing_. _YOU. ARE. NOTHING!"_ Male shouted, his voice echoing off the walls.

"Really?" He answered smartly, folding his hands in his lap. "I know you're young, hopped up on something I want no part in. I know you're angry at me, that whoever your companion is keeps you on a long leash," He paused and stood when there was no reply. "I know I hurt you somehow, but seeing as you've taken my memory I can't offer any kind of recompense for it. Whatever it was... well, I guess I've earned _this_." He gestured with his hands to the cage around him.

"And," He continued. "I know I don't need my eyes to know you're about thirty seconds from snapping. So, why don't we cut the flirting and you do what you came here to do."

In His mind, his imagined a knife being drawn, slowly and deliberately. He imagined Male walking towards him, lowering the force field. He saw _her_ face, his Celestial Woman standing beside him, holding his hand.

"What do you remember?" Male asked, his voice closer. He was definitely inside the cage, but He never heard the force field appear again. Perhaps... this was his chance.

"Particles here and there, nothing incriminating." He answered honestly with a sigh.

"Good." Male said and He waited for the knife, He waited for the next blow, the next beating.

It never came.

He tensed during the prolonged intimidation, that no longer intimidated him. It only made him yearn for his sight, so that he could for once fight back and use his fists instead of his words to combat this naive child in front of him.

But Deep Throat's voice shouted over a communicator, a loud crash followed that soon entered the chamber where His cage was kept. He shuddered and moved backwards towards the wall. He at least had memorized his cage.

"L'Rell!" Male shouted, giving his companion a name in amidst panic and urgency.

L'Rell shouted again but the communicator was soon disconnected, garbled noise and yells.

 _Phasor fire,_ He thought quickly. He was tempted to attack but he couldn't see his opponent. It would be foolish and end in a worse death than whatever it was his captors were planning.

There were footsteps, Male leaving his cage, the force field returning, once more trapping Him inside it.

He briefly hoped it was a rescue, but he knew that was foolish. It was probably an accident. He shouldn't get his hopes up.

Voices spoke from a distance, He moved to the edge of the force to try and listen.

"Who the hell are you?" Male yelled.

"No one you need worry over." Another voice replied, He hadn't heard that voice before.

"If you-" a phasor opened fire and the sound of rubble hitting the cold ground reverberated throughout the chamber.

A groan and a cry of pain followed, something that sounded very much like a boot meeting flesh.

The force field lowered moments later. He backed away, afraid of this new comer and whatever horror they might inflict upon him.

"Captain Lorca?" A voice asked and he shook his head.

"Who?"

"Ah, shit."

X

Luring the female Klingon inside the shuttle had been easy. Curiosity always got the cat in the end. And her end wasn't pleasant, and it was messy. Most of her was still a smouldering pile of Klingon flesh back at the shuttle. She had fought, he hadn't been surprised. During his recruitment of Klingon spies he had learned a thing or two about their fighting style. Memorizing it to heart. He admired it. But they never expected a human to use it against them.

L'Rell of House Mokai didn't cry for help in her last moments, only a warning to Voq, disguised as Lt. Tyler. He had crushed her communicator before putting a rather harsh dose of phasor fire through her abnormal skull.

Voq had been put down with the rubble.

What had never figured into any of Richard's scenarios though was that Captain Lorca would be without memory of who he was or why he had been captured.

"You need to trust me, Captain," Richard said, approaching the older man with caution. He was a caged animal, half starved and filthy. He wasn't going to be easy to win over after being tortured and isolated for so long.

"Who are you? Why are you calling me captain?" He demanded roughly from the ground, holding a weak hand out as protection.

"My name is Agent Richard York, I've been sent here to rescue you." Richard told him urgently, knowing that they needed to get out.

"I'm not a captain," Lorca said, slowly shaking his head.

"Sir, you are and you are in need of medical attention. I have something that, if you permit me, will prove that you can trust me."

"Yeah? What the hell is that?" He demanded.

Richard removed the hypopen from his pocket.

"You've been lead to believe you're completely blind, have you not?" Richard asked carefully. He saw the man's face soften but confusion warped it as well. "You suffer from a painful but treatable condition called photosensitivity. I'm placing a hypopen in your hand, if you inject your eyes, in a few moments you will see again."

Richard waited, Lorca held out his hand. Within seconds of injecting his eyes, blinking thickly, Lorca began to see again. He exhaled sharply, a relief, clutching the pen in his hands.

It was that easy for them to give him his sight back... all this time, toiling away, believing he was a poor blind pauper and he wasn't. He knew he wasn't, but their beatings had done more than bruise his flesh.

"Now do you believe I mean you no harm?" Richard asked and Lorca nodded, slowly and numbly.

"I need to get you out of here." Richard informed him again, making a strong emphasis on the point. The Wolf was a powerful ship but they were also in a chaotic part of Klingon space.

"Why am I so damn important?" Lorca asked, getting to his feet with Richard's help.

"Well, firstly: it's my job. Secondly, I made a promise to a lady."

With his vision returned, he glanced back at the cage that had held him. It was six feet by four feet... at least. He had thought it had been so much bigger. He limped beside Richard, the beating from yesterday hadn't been healed yet.

"Do you remember anything?" Richard asked him. Lorca opened his mouth to speak when he felt something hard and sharp entered his calf and he fell against his rescuer.

A guttural shout followed. Richard flung Lorca to safety and turned to see Voq to crawling to his feet, bloody and in need of a doctor. Richard wasn't about to provide him with one.

It was very rare for the secretive agent to be surprised. But seeing Voq getting to his feet, drawing yet another damn knife and a phasor, gave him pause. He was a tough son of a bitch.

Human body, Klingon stamina.

Voq spat blood to the dirty floor.

"Get rid of your phasor." He ordered. Richard frowned and shook his head.

"I like it where it is." He assured the Klingon-Human mix.

"Let's settle this _my_ way." Voq suggested, lifting the knife and tossing his other weapon away.

 _You could just shoot him now... but where's the honor in that?_ Richard thought blandly.

Never one to back down from a fight, Richard tossed his phasor to the ground. He hadn't, after all, gotten to use his dagger tonight. The fight would do him some good. And besides, it might give Lorca some time.

"I always liked knives." Richard assured Voq darkly.

Voq's blade was longer, had more of a reach and the tip curved in a way that was meant for ripping intestines from the gut.

Richard's own knife was five inches, straight with a serrated bottom blade.

Voq lunged, swiping at Richard's thigh where the artery was. He dodged it, knocking Voq in his back to send him forwards into a wall. The Klingon quickly gathered himself. But he was still weak from the wall collapsing on him.

"You're over eager." Richard pointed out with a sigh, hoping for a better fight.

"You talk too much." Voq said again, striking hard and fast, landing a cut on Richard's forearm.

The man shook it off.

"I'll eat your heart, human." Voq said.

"Cannibalism really doesn't suit you."

Richard let Voq cage him in, backing towards a mine shaft.

"You won't take my glory from me." Voq said passionately, spittal falling from his lips.

"There will be no glory for you." Richard assured him, the Klingon lunged at him again, the agent allowed Voq to disarm him.

The Klingon grabbed Richard by the throat.

"You're letting me win." He realized.

"Yeah, and you fell for it you son of a bitch."

Voq's body cringed when the phasor fire hit him, Richard felt the residual effects and groaned. Both men falling to their knees. Lorca had changed the setting from kill to stun, good thing too in his case.

Voq spat up blood and the agent kicked him off. He grabbed his knife and held it over Voq's throat.

"What would she think of you now?" Richard asked, with a disappointed grimace, sliding the blade just so that it nicked the Klingon's throat. A strange look passed over his face; not a snarling, angry beast but a broken man.

"She... she wouldn't..." he trailed off, tears falling from his eyes. But how soon would it be until the Klingon took over again?

"You didn't ask for this, Lt., that I know," Richard said, realizing what was happening, his heart softening to the man's plight. "But it's not you that I kill. It's your tormentor."

"Make it quick." It wasn't a request. Richard simply nodded.

No, he wouldn't cut his throat. Instead, below Lt. Tyler's field of vision, the agent quickly cut his wrist down to the bone. Ash winced in pain and shock and then... **acceptance**. Richard held his hand as he bled out, the blood on his palm creating a slippery grip.

Lorca came to rest beside the two men, taking Ash's other hand. The wound in his calf gnarled but non-life threatening.

"I'm sorry, Captain." Ash said weakly, the life leaving him as did his blood.

"It's ok." Lorca replied softly, even if he didn't know why this man was apologizing or what sort of metamorphosis was taking place before his eyes.

"Thank you..." Ash whispered, his eyes closed. After a moment Richard gently released his hand, laying it on his chest.

"It's done." Richard told Lorca.

X

Michael received word Captain Lorca was alive, perhaps not entirely well, but alive nonetheless. She had rejoiced in her own way, cupping the swell of her belly and holding herself.

But what followed was not what she was expecting. In truth, the first time she read the message she only searched the words "alive" and "safe". When she regained her composure she read the finer print: malnourished but that was to be expected... amnesic was not something she had planned for.

Gabriel was to convelese at a secret starbase and Richard York promised to personally escort her there. Michael had hoped their reunion would be more intimate, not in some white washed hospital room with other spooks milling about. When she asked York what sort of operations the secret starbase performed he simply smirked and replied, " _you'll find all that out when you sign on the dotted line"_. It had reminded her that with Gabriel's promised rescue came a new battle.

Michael realized she had unwittingly agreed on _both_ their behalfs to work for Section 31 after his successful rescue. Did that also include recruitment of their unborn child as well or would she be free to live her life and find her path?

All these things more followed Michael. The dark storm that had surrounded her the last few months had withered but remained.

Gabriel was kept in a room labeled: 5. How far did the numbers go and who else was kept here?

Richard didn't knock, he simply opened the door. The room was pristine white with a viewing window eight feet long. Another door, she assumed, lead to a bathroom. There was a replicator, a desk and a chair. And sitting was Gabriel. He turned when he heard the door open and stood, shifting nervously on his feet.

"I'll... leave you to it." Richard said awkwardly, taking his leave, knowing when his work had been done.

Michael didn't feel like they were meeting for the first time. But she did feel out of place. He didn't look at her the same way, it was different. A shyness, an unnatural modesty Gabriel hadn't possessed before.

Where was that confident swagger? The macho-maleness she had never found attractive before until she met him? Where was Gabriel?

He was gaining weight, but he still looked leaner than the last time she had seen him. She was thankful most of his physical wounds had not been life threatening. He didn't look the same standing there in his white hospital clothes.

In the end, he spoke first,

"They... they tell me I know you."

Michael nodded, successfully avoiding tears. She needed to be strong now, for all three of them. But it was getting harder to do, she had carried this weight for so long already. She had hoped when they did finally reunite that he would've had his memory intact.

She felt like she was starting from the ground all over again. She had all the pieces but there was no foundation on which to place them.

"Yes," she answered. "We... we were together."

"I thought so." He said, he came towards her a little. "I saw your face, in my dreams. When I could dream."

That made Michael smile, hopeful and at ease.

"I thought I was crazy," he admitted. "But... it kept me alive."

Ignoring what the doctors had told her, she couldn't bare it, and rushed towards him, wrapping her arms tightly around him. She felt him stiffen and she slowly released him when he didn't return the embrace; reluctant to let him go. She wiped her face of tears and shook her head.

"I'm sorry. I..." She felt him touch her shoulder.

"It's ok." He told her gently, rubbing her arm through her civilian overcoat. She shivered at the touch, closing her eyes to savor the feeling of his hand.

Looking into his eyes finally she sighed. Those same eyes that had been so much like hers. The very thing that had drawn them together, the mutual sorrow and despair.

"Do you think it's possible for you to remember?" She asked him.

"The doctors say it's possible." He said.

Slowly, his gaze shifted from her eyes to her lips, she realized they were still standing so close to one another. Both his hands gripped her forearms, her own resting on his biceps. From her lips... he noticed the bump in her stomach.

Releasing her as if he had been burned, he stepped away. He hadn't seemed to take notice of it before, perhaps it had been the maternity shirt and coat or just lost in the moment and shear anxiety of the situation.

"I... I didn't know, did I?" He asked her, referring to her pregnancy.

"No. I never had the chance to tell you." She replied sadly, looking down. "Your reaction- well, I guess it's to be expected."

"I just need time, Michael." He told her, but she felt like she was losing him.

How was she supposed to make him fall in love with her again? What if his memory never came back? She couldn't bare losing him once she had gotten him back, not again.

"I understand." She turned for the door but he caught her wrist.

"I want to remember you." He said genuinely, and she wanted to believe him. But she was also a realist. So she lied.

"I believe you."

 **AN: I hope you all had a merry, loving and warm Christmas 3 Stay tuned for more! Not that much longer until January 7th!**


	14. PART FOURTEEN: Change Begets Change

PART FOURTEEN

Change Begets Change

The following days Michael spent time with Gabriel, but she didn't want to suffocate him with her presence. She stifled their visits to only a couple of hours a day. In her other freetime, Agent York schooled her on Section 31. She thought it was all very cloak and dagger, the old Gabriel might have liked it though. He had always been so secretive anyway. But what about the new Gabriel?

York informed her on what would be expected of both of them. Section 31 would require complete and totally loyalty and they would be released from duty upon the organization's own reflection of their service. In reality, they could work for the secretive union for weeks or years.

For the rest of their lives in they sought fit.

There was progress being made with Gabriel and that's what really mattered to Michael. She would take having him back and forfeiting whatever career she could have salvaged with Starfleet. Would they still want him though if his memory was never the same again?

"How are today?" Michael asked.

The starbase had a indoor garden for meditation and walking, little paths knitted into the fabric of the starbase seemed odd but soothing at the same time.

"Better. I've been writing down what I'm remembering, it's... extremely _vivid_." He told her as they walked. They had given him better clothing, he no longer had to wear those god awful white hospital attire. He looked good, growing more physically fit every day.

"Which parts are vivid?" She inquired simply.

"You."

Michael started at that, flushing crimson down to her chest. She looked away nervously, ringing her hands.

"These... hydrangeas are extremely beautiful." She said dully, licking her lips and chastising herself for saying something so idiotic. The blue flowers stared back at her, dumbly, unintelligent and mute.

"Yeah," he said, standing beside her. "I guess."

The silence was filled with plenty of unsaid things. She wanted to ask him what these "vivid" memories entailed, what their nature was, how he saw her in them. She knew what she wanted him to say... but it was still too soon for any of that.

"Any memories of being captain?" She asked, finding her voice again and changing the outline of the subject. He cleared his throat and nodded.

"Yeah. Some. Not all good. I've lived an interesting life." He said, not sadly almost regrettably.

"You're an extraordinary man." She told him, bashfully.

Gabriel smiled out of the corner of his mouth.

Strange, he had _never_ been boyish before. He had never been so reluctant to express how he really felt. Like he didn't know how to anymore, not with her.

"And you're an amazing woman." He complimented.

Michael realized their time had lapsed. She should go, lie down and get some rest before her next meeting with Richard.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow." She patted his arm kindly and left.

Gabriel watched her go, sighing deeply, that he didn't know how to talk her to properly gnawed at him. And there was no one else he could ask, no one he could go to that could tell him how to be as he once was with her.

In his memories he seemed confident, he even felt the confidence within the memory. But he found himself unable to act as such. He couldn't find it in him to be as straightforward as he used to be. He knew it was there, that he had it in him to do so. But becoming that man again seemed impossible to him.

He knew he loved Michael at one point, he still loved her. But it was confusing and complicated. It left him with a feeling of dread and disappointment, not in her, but in himself.

X

"You're not giving it your all." Michael quipped, placing her knight in front of the rook. Gabriel groaned.

"I have a feeling this was never my game." He said, observing the board with narrow eyes.

"You're a man of strategy, this _was_ your game." She told him.

Michael smiled and watched as he raised his hand. He was going to sacrifice his pawn, she bit her lower lip and shook her head, making a noise. He paused.

"What?"

"You'll leave the queen unguarded for my other knight." She said, he followed her eyes to her white knight ready to slay the queen. He sat back in his chair.

"Can't we play something else?" He begged and she laughed lightly.

"Captain Lorca giving up on a fight," she teased, clearing the board.

"I'm not giving up." He argued and she shook her head.

"I think I see a little white flag right about-"

Michael had been reaching for his queen when he gently took her wrist. They both stilled, she couldn't take her eyes off his strong hand touching her. She exhaled subtly.

When his thumb moved against the inside of her wrist, stroking the fine thin skin, she shuddered.

"What... other game do you have in mind?" She asked, not intending for it to sound so suggestive. But he didn't answer, simply touching her. He raised the sleeve only a few inches, his thumb reaching higher and tickling her quietly.

"I can see you," he said lowly. "I can... see us."

Blue eyes met her darker ones. She wanted to give into the temptation to crush her mouth against his own. To empower him as much as herself.

"What do you see?" She dared ask him.

But he looked away and released her, rising and going to the viewing window, finding solace in the stars. Michael berated herself silently, hanging her head. She had pushed him too far. He wasn't ready for things like that yet. But she longed to tell him she missed feeling him against her, holding her, claiming her... she missed him inside of her.

She missed him in ways she didn't think were possible. It wasn't just the sex itself she missed, it was the connection they had during it and after. The times she had wept afterward because she had never in all her life ever felt so complete with another person before.

And even with Gabriel standing in the same room as herself, she felt the barrier between them remaining.

"I should go." She suggested, he didn't protest, he didn't say or do anything.

Michael wondered if it was because of her pregnancy that he didn't come to her, that he didn't want her sexually. Her own libido was quite active. Her child grew daily, but she was small as her mother was. Her doctor assured her that everything was fine, just that the baby would be expected to be small. Michael herself only weighed 6.7 pounds when she was born, below average.

Returning to her quarters she showered and dressed for bed... when Gabriel came knocking.

"Is everything alright?" She asked, wrapping her thin robe around herself.

"Yeah... can I come in?"

Michael allowed him entry, her heart fluttering and her stomach doing flip flops. He didn't look around at her living space, she didn't ask to show him the place. His eyes were on her.

"Show me how I can be like me again." He said, his voice shaking. Almost begging.

"What do you mean?" She asked coming closer to him.

Gabriel took her hand in his.

"I want to be the same man I was for you." He told her. "But I need you to show me how."

Michael nodded, understanding.

"It could... be too soon." She said, trying to give him an out. He shook his head, drawing her closer to himself.

"I need you, Michael. I... I just... I don't-"

"Shh..."

Michael wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest, breathing in his scent, relieved when he returned the embrace.

"What was I like with you before?" He whispered, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"Sure of yourself, you knew what you wanted. You knew how... you knew how to want me." She told him, she knew she was being vague but it was difficult for herself to put it into words.

"You brought something out of me I didn't know was there."

"What?"

"Unconditional belief, love, trust... desire," she paused, looking up at him. "Passion. Lust... a wanton ache I had never felt with any other man and none since."

Michael watched his eyes darken, his hands moving to hold her waist tightly, his breathing deepening.

"You were able to take from me what I was willing to give. Hard or soft, I wanted every inch of you. You left no part of me unexplored." Her breathing hitched when she felt him growing hard against her, pressing it into her with each word she spoke.

She realized it would be a long time until he played the seducer. She had to find it in herself to give him that confidence again, she had to help him find it.

Leaning up a little, she pressed her lips to the spot on his neck she knew made him quiver with or without his memory entirely returned to him. He shivered as her lips found his skin, untying the little knot in her robe.

"What else?" He asked her, almost breathless.

"Every time you took me, it was like the first time. There's never been any other-"

The spark had turned into a fire and from there... all hell had broken loose.

His kiss was still uncertain and his hands were everywhere. The bump in her stomach prevented them from getting any closer. But when she felt him place his hand on her belly, she broke from his mouth, overwhelmed and overstimulated. He pressed his lips to her temple, wrapping his arm around her.

"It's too soon. I'm sorry-" she put her fingers over his mouth, shivering at the feeling of his warm breath wafting over them.

"It's fine, I'm... it feels the same but I know it's not. But that's ok."

That night, they held each other, mending each other silently. She laid on her side while he spooned her from behind, their hands intertwined, fingers locked tightly together.

"What is it?" Gabriel asked, he couldn't help himself. He couldn't see her face, so she smiled. It was a small triumph. He hadn't asked about the baby since he found out. This was progress, momentum during an uphill battle.

"A girl." She answered, she felt him relax further against.

"Have you thought of a name?"

In truth, she hadn't. People had given their suggestions of course, Michael found that when you became pregnant people had no shortage of suggestion or advice. Frankly, she could fill a room with the guidance, sometimes, complete strangers wanted to give her.

But a name for her child, an alias that they would carry for the rest of their life... no, she hadn't. Perhaps she had been waiting for him to come back to her.

"I haven't." She said, a ship passed by their viewing window, shadowing them briefly.

"I have a feeling I don't have much experience in this area," he said, "Hollis?"

"Hollis?" She repeated rapidly, right after it left his mouth.

Gabriel propped himself up on an elbow.

"I read it recently. It means, dweller at the holly trees." He explained, but Michael didn't answer, making a small noise in her throat akin to disagreement.

"You asked." He defended in a joking manner. She smiled, placing a hand on his thigh.

"It's not... terrible." She promised, kindly.

"Oh. Well as long as it's not _terrible_."

Michael scooted herself up onto the pillows, he adjusted them for her in a way that was natural, as if they had been here before. In a way, they had.

"I read once that sometimes parents wait to name their child until they meet them. There's something fanciful about it that I like it."

Gabriel thought, mulling it over.

"I'd like to be there for that." He confided and she leaned closer to him.

"I would like that too."

X

"And how are our new perspective recruits fairing?" Agent 6 asked. Richard York passed the menu back to the waiter, he rubbed his hands together.

"Splendidly," Richard answered. "Recovery for Lorca is slow but I see great prospects from him. Burnham is on board completely."

"She's a loose canon," Agent 6 reminded, him. The younger agent only shrugged, unworried.

"I have total faith in her." Richard commended proudly.

Agent 6 seemed less convinced.

"Perhaps too much."

The implication was obvious, Richard wasn't an idiot. He understood entirely. He kept himself at a distance for a reason, he made it a point not to seduce recruits or expecting mothers. Not to mention when said expecting mother was basically married to his other recruit.

"You need not worry in that regard." Richard assured his superior. Agent 6 batted her eyes knowingly. "I swear." He added for extra security.

"I have my doubts, Richard," she said, cordially. "Regardless of whether or not his memory comes back he has a track record for not following orders and she is a mutineer."

"I believe we helped clear her of such charges." Richard concluded. Agent 6 sighed wearily.

"You're compromised. I'm pulling you off this." She said decidedly. Richard shook his head.

"I'm afraid I would have to disagree with you, sir."

Agent 6 had been around since before Section 31 had even been conceived, before it was even a thought. But she had been there, and who she had been before the organization had begun was more a mystery than anything else.

Of course Richard had wondered, but wondering too much and too far got agents killed. His world of spy networks, inforements and working both sides of the isle was a secretive and dangerous place. But he knew most importantly what his _place_ was.

"You have feelings for Burnham. How can I possibly let you continue?" Agent 6 asked, what she was really wanting was a reason to let him stay.

"You know I'm better than anyone at retaining loyalty."

X

Gabriel's recovery continued to progress. His memory was returning, in pieces but nonetheless he and Michael celebrated the small victories. Sometimes during their walks or even when they were alone together in either of their quarters he would remember something about her; a fragrance she liked, a favorite book... little by little the information and data he had stored away before his memory was taken was coming back.

Selfishly, she was glad it was of herself. That the memories they had made together and the memories he had of her were not entirely lost. He was remembering things from childhood and his years at the academy as well.

However, with progress came questions. Gabriel kept asking Michael where they were, who if it wasn't Starfleet, had aided them in his rescue. She had done her best to keep him in the dark for as long as possible so as to not stunt his recovery.

But with or without memory, Gabriel Lorca had never been stupid. And she didn't like lying to him either, even if it was to keep him safe.

And there were others things, intimate things, Michael was contemplating. More frequently as of late, they would share the night together in his quarters or her own. She was leaving things there; a toothbrush, a pair of underwear... such ordinary items were beginning to hold a different meaning for them now.

He in turn was doing the same.

A t-shirt, a pair of shoes, his own spare toothbrush.

"Have you told him yet?" Richard asked during one of their sessions.

"No."

Richard leaned back in his chair.

"Shall I? We bonded a little during the rescue." He said confidently. Michael highly doubted this.

"No. I should, it would better coming from me." She said finally.

"Would it?"

Michael wasn't so sure anymore. Perhaps the old morally ambiguous Captain Lorca would've been on board, an extremely viable recruit, but now... he was different. Now and then she would see glimpses of him, in his pondering or his studiousness. But less and less was he the cold and stern man she had known.

When Gabriel had first returned to her she had been terrified he wouldn't love her, now the idea that she might not love this new him frightened her more.

It was morning when he was late to meet her, which wasn't normal for him. Despite his lapse in memory one thing that remained constant about Gabriel was that he was still punctual. Deciding it was better to see if he was alright than to wait she went to his quarters.

The room was unlocked, which was usual, and she was able to walk through the sliding doors without delay. She heard the shower running, the scent of soap filled the air.

The door bathroom open.

The temptation tickled her...

 _No, no, that's wrong for many different reasons..._ she told herself.

However, Michael couldn't remember any of those reasons. The open door, the splash of water off of a hard male body beckoned her like a siren.

She was captivated by the lurid, voyeuristic emotions that preyed on her so easily.

Tiptoeing lightly, she placed her hand on the doorframe and looked in and... god bless whoever invented a glass shower.

In the time of his recover Gabriel had gained back virtually all of the weight he had lost. He looked almost like his old self, a bit more wear and tear here and there. The scars inflicted upon him from back when the Buran had been ambushed were there. The scar on his left shoulder, a tattoo removal she had once asked about and he adamantly refused to tell her of.

Yes, this was her Gabriel. In this silent, intimate and private moment, he was her man again.

Christ, how she wanted to join him. Surprise him and ask if he required her assistance...

Turning away, she chided herself for being so pathetic. For watching a man still recovering from his injuries like he was a piece of meat-

"Michael?"

 _Shit._

Michael felt like a child again, when she had been caught playing with Sarek's precious artifacts. She had been found out, caught... the jig was totally up.

"Uh-huh." She managed to reply. She heard the door open a little, the steaming surrounding her, his smell...

"Not to be rude but, usually it's polite to knock first." He joked and she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Yes well... late- _you_ were late. I was worried." She stumbled out.

The water turned off.

"Can you hand me a towel?" He asked and she searched the room for one, she found it lying on the countertop. She moved towards it as swiftly as her pregnancy would allow her. With her back still to him she held it out awkwardly. She felt the weight of it leave her hand, his own brushing against her skin.

The _spark._

It made her knees wobbly, her stomach turn to jello.

"I slept in," he said, she could hear him drying off. "I meant to send a message but I guess it slipped my mind."

"Oh." She said simply, looking at the floor.

The door to the shower closer, he moved in front of her. His hair wet, droplets of water still caressed his pale skin. She found it difficult to meet his eyes, so she looked at his forehead instead.

"Are you alright?" He asked and she nodded. "You're a little flushed."

"I should be going." She attempted to move past him but he caught her wrist gently, her hand flying to his bare chest to steady herself.

 _Fuck... was he always this cut?_ She thought, realizing that was only a phrase Tilly would've used!

Michael also knew what Tilly would do in this situation.

 _Soldier thing, indeed._

When had she become so shy around him?

When he changed.

"Wait in the other room, I'll change," he said sweetly, he leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

On weak legs she sat at the foot of his bed, listening to him dress and hating the idea of clothes altogether.

The replicator had been programmed to supply him with civilian clothes and she wouldn't deny she both longed to feel them against her and desired to rid him of them. Such thoughts would not do...

But what could she do about them? Michael made up her mind.

Gabriel entered the room and she rose to her feet.

"I was thinking maybe I could come with you to your appointment. I know you said it's the last before the baby is born..."

"Gabriel-"

"I just think I should be there-"

"Gabriel?"

He stopped his rambling and listened. She approached him slowly, her hands reaching out to the hem of his shirt.

"Michael?" He asked, confused.

Leaning up she kissed him gently, just a brush of her mouth against his. The steam was beginning to make it's commute to the bedroom.

Searching his eyes she waited, a hair's breadth away from his face. She brought her fingertips to his chin, guiding him.

 _Closer... please, closer,_ she thought, longingly.

Gabriel's kiss was hesitant, until she pressed more firmly against him and he moaned gently in his throat. She cupped his face with both her hands, slowly moving her tongue against the seam of his lips. She could feel his struggle but she needed him.

Realizing he perhaps needed a little more encouragement she slid her hand down again and under his shirt, tracing little incoherent designs along his flesh that made him tingle.

It worked, for his own hands seemed to find their life and purpose again, running them along her waist, causing a whimper to escape her. It seemed to pour kerosene on the fire. He opened his mouth and began to take charge, like he used to.

This felt new and old and beautiful. The growing baby bump made things tricky, but they worked around it. She took her free hand and used it to slide his own just under the swell of her breast. He was reluctant at first until he experimentally slid his thumb back and forth and another whimper came out of her.

They were still standing. Pulling away for a moment she toed her shoes off and maneuvered him towards edge of the bed.

They had been spending nights together, yes, but he hadn't let himself touch her like this yet. They hadn't made love or even fooled around, not kissed as they did now. Like lovers.

Removing her light jacket, letting it fall to the floor, she laid down beside him and returned to their exploring of one another. Making out like teenagers.

Kissing Gabriel felt brand new, it felt as exciting as it had been before only different. Somehow she liked showing him her body and where to touch her whereas before he had done his own explorative journey to get to know her favorite pleasure points.

It was happening all over again, only in a strange way _she_ was the experienced one.

Taking his hand again once it had decided to remain under her breast she kissed his palm, the his fingertips, then slowly traced the pad of his thumb with her tongue. He groaned deeply, tensing when she brought the whole digit into her mouth.

He tore it away from her, pressing his mouth hard against her own, surprising her.

 _There_ , that was the old Lorca again.

Taking, winning, devouring her.

"I want you inside of me." She whispered into his ear, he let out of a hard breath.

Gabriel didn't answer, he moaned sweetly against her neck as he laved at her earlobe, gripping and caressing various parts of her body that had been forgotten for so long. He slid his hand down the front of her leggings, she parted them a little to grant him better access to her wet opening.

He watched her face when his agile fingers made contact with her wetness, she cooed against his chest and held onto him for dear life. It had been so long without another's touch, without _**his**_ touch.

If he had forgotten how she liked to be touched he didn't show it. In fact, he seemed very familiar with her body. As if it was all coming back to him the more he touched her.

Perhaps this was a turning point...?

He circled her clit with his fingers before slowly testing her waters and inserting a single finger inside of her. She clenched around him and whimpered softly, twisting the fabric of his shirt in her fingers tightly.

God, she felt so empty without him.

She felt him kiss her temple, as if silently encouraging her. He thrust gently inside her at first before changing his rhythm.

"Yes, _yes_..." she murmured, emboldened by her response to his touch he pressed his mouth to hers again, filling her with his thick fingers and pushing into her with tight, firm strokes.

He opened his mouth and a single word left his lips, one that sent her over the edge into oblivion,

" _Sweetheart."_

Michael came apart around his index and middle fingers sharply, startled by the ferocity of her orgasm. Holding him as close as she could to herself.

Coming out of the daze was harder than she thought, she felt tired and wanted to remain in bed with him and sleep. His own pleasure forgotten, he removed his hand from her. He disappeared from the bed, returning with a glass of water.

As he extended the glass, his hand shook.

"Are you alright?" She asked him, sipping from her water. He didn't sit back down. The confident gleam in his eyes had faded.

"I might not have my memory but... sex changes things between two people." He said strangely.

Michael frowned.

"We've had plenty of it." She said, trying to ease the sudden awkwardness that had arisen.

When he remained standing, bowing his head as if in shame, she scooted towards the edge side of the bed where he stood.

"Unless you don't _want_ anything to change." She realized and when he didn't answer she felt her stomach drop.

"I want you, Michael, I do. And I know I love you but... I'm not ready for _us_ to change yet. I want to be the same man for you but I don't know if I can be. You're the only friend or companion I have here."

 _Friend, companion. Not fiance, girlfriend or lover..._ **FRIEND.**

Gently resting the glass on the table beside the bed she swung her legs slowly over to the edge to plant them on the floor.

Michael felt her anger rising... coming to life. She shook her head slowly as she spoke, not that it mattered what she said now,

"Do you know what I did to get you back?"

No, of course he didn't know. He was living in a perfect little bubble designed to keep him warm and happy. Who gave a shit what she sacrificed? She had been perfectly content to live out the rest of her days in some Starfleet prison, forgotten by everyone and loved by no one, when he came along.

Everything that happened since that prison shuttle was grasped in Discovery's tractor beam had been his doing. And now he lived regret free because he simply didn't remember.

"I'm sorry-" he tried but she held up her hand.

"Don't speak, I can't even listen to your voice." She said brokenly.

 _He_ didn't have to worry about a secret organization running their lives. _He_ didn't have to carry this damn baby and be uncomfortable from morning till night. _He_ didn't have to live with the memory of thinking she had lost him. _He_ was safe inside his bubble.

"I gave up so much for you," she said lowly. "And once I get you back it's not even you. It's... it's like a pretender all over again. I win but I don't. You win. You get a fresh start. You can decide whether or not I'm worth it all over again. Maybe this time you'll make a better choice."

Michael pushed herself to her feet, ignoring his attempt to help her.

"Michael I want to be with you, it's just everything is very complicated right now." He said ardently and she scoffed at him.

"The man I knew, the man I loved, wouldn't have needed to _think_ about any of that. Gabriel Lorca never hesitated. He never wavered. He always put me first because I always put him first. Do you understand? No. How could you? You're not him." Michael cast him a bitter glare. "I'll go to the doctor on my own. I'd rather be alone."

Taking her leave Michael collapsed against a wall, weeping. It wasn't supposed to be like this. They were supposed to be a family. Everything was supposed to be better when he was returned to her.

That's what happens when you make a deal with the devil, the devil never promises it will be exactly what you want.

No. What she wanted was Gabriel back, she had that. But there was always a twist, always another unexpected turn down another rabbit hole that lead you deeper into Wonderland instead of a way out.

There was always a catch.

The devil gave Gabriel back in one piece, minus his memory. Minus his courage and bravery. Michael believed she could've loved Gabriel no matter what. That her love for him went beyond any other selfish attribute he had. But that wasn't true. She needed all of Gabriel if she was going to love him.

Change was inevitable to life. But this was more than change. This was an evolution of the man she loved she never could have predicted. And Michael wasn't sure she was strong enough to wade through it.

 **AN: Hey all! Another sad chapter with a mild smutty twist. Hope you're all looking forward to January 7th! : ) 3**


	15. PART FIFTEEN: Imzadi

PART FIFTEEN

Imzadi

When Michael Burnham went into early labor Gabriel was meeting Agent York. He hadn't properly gotten the chance to thank the operative since his return, but his motives weren't entirely to show his appreciation.

They met in a cafe located on the secure and secret starbase. Gabriel had had his suspicions. He knew whoever these people were they did not operate in tandem with Starfleet or the Federation, that much he had deduced. Whoever they were, they had great power and influence that stretched far and wide.

They entertained diplomates, admirals, heads of state from various worlds. It was a colorful and rich bevy of faces, some who recognized Gabriel but he did not know them. It was strange to have so many people inquire about his well being who claimed to have known him but that he didn't remember. Every day he prepared himself for such an encounter.

But the thoughts that plagued Gabriel today weren't on the many faces he met and re-met almost on a daily basis. It wasn't the memory of guilt he held over the loss of lives he couldn't remember, it wasn't a feeling of grief he felt when he looked back on the last moment of his captor's life. He knew that Agent York might be able to give him some answers if not all of them.

The secret agent was prompt and smiled in a friendly way that might have put Gabriel's counterparts at ease but an instinct to be weary of Richard York stayed present in the captain's mind.

"Thank you for meeting me," Gabriel began without delay. "I need to know what this all is."

Richard pressed the tip of his tongue to his front teeth in thought, removed an apple from his pocket and began peeling it precisely.

"How is your recovery treating you?" Richard asked instead. Gabriel knew a deflection when he saw it. Judging by his research into his own past he knew he was seen as a brilliant military tactician, he had instincts that even with the loss of his memory still hadn't faded. York might appear to be a friend, but he wasn't to be trusted.

"Fine. Who are you?" Gabriel attempted to get back on topic.

"One thing at a time," Richard chided gently. "What do you know?"

"I know you and the crew of this starbase operate with perhaps unlimited power," Gabriel began, York nodding. "I know you have a team working round the clock to restore my memory to nearly its entirety, hence all of the tests I've endured but their progress is slow."

York broke off a piece of apple peel, presenting it to Gabriel who declined, he ate it himself with an audible crunch.

"And...?" York waited.

"And somehow Michael is the catalyst to all this." Gabriel concluded.

"Bingo!" York exclaimed happily. "Tit for tat, Captain Lorca. We provide _a_ service you just... provide service. Get my drift?"

York added a wink for emphasises. It left a sour taste in Gabriel's mouth.

"Can you elaborate?" Gabriel inquired further.

"Commander Burnham wanted you back as did my superiors. You were seen as an asset to us. However we did not foresee the loss of your memory. If it doesn't entirely return we'll have to cut you loose. You'll go back to... whatever it is regular people like you would do. Civilian life, private sector."

"And Michael?"

The question was weighed on the scales, heavily. One side weakening and crumbling, the other ready to spring away.

"She is still seen as valuable." York admitted. "There is no reason to-"

"Cut her loose." Gabriel finished for the agent, who nodded simply.

"But... her child..."

"Would be given every opportunity in the world. And besides, aren't you a little old to be thinking of fatherhood?"

Gabriel slammed his hand down on the table, causing many patrons to stop what they were doing. He didn't attempt to compose himself. He had been kept in, what had Michael called it...?

A bubble... they had been purposely keeping him dumbed down, spoon feeding him little bits of information here and there. They didn't want him anymore because he had nothing to offer them.

Whatever important information or secrets his old self had were lost, perhaps, for good. But Michael... _his_ child. _His_ daughter. This is what she had meant when she had spoken of sacrifice. In lew of not having him with her to make the decision to sell their lives to save his, she had made it alone and he assumed without hesitation. She had sold her own future to save him.

Michael had forfeited everything on the hope he would come back alive and in one piece. But he was only half a man now. Half the man he had been. He could see it in her eyes. And yet in the deepest parts of himself, despite his hesitation and his anxiety, he knew he loved her regardless.

And he knew he loved her child- _their_ child.

"I won't be parted from her again," Gabriel said finitely. "Where she goes I go."

"And if she doesn't want you to?" York asked, as if the Gabriel hadn't already thought of it. But Gabriel had thought of that many times in the weeks since he had last seen Michael.

"I would rather hear that from her than you, if you don't mind." Gabriel said strongly.

York opened his mouth to speak when his communicator beeped. He sighed and answered it.

"York here."

"Sir, Commander Burnham has gone into labor. She requests Captain Lorca."

York was barely to his feet when Gabriel was already halfway out the door. Groaning he stuffed the rest of the apple peel into his mouth and ran after the older man.

Gabriel waited at a turbolift, ringing his hands and breathing deeply.

"Relax, old chap, don't want to get too attached." York said, resting his shoulder against the wall.

"Fuck off." Gabriel snapped.

"Is that anyway to treat your savior?"

The doors slid open and Gabriel nearly knocked the four people exiting it out of the way.

"Sickbay." He ordered, York quickly beside him. "It means something that she wants me there."

"Might just need someone to scream at, after all it's not like you'll be around long enough to see it graduate." York commented snidely.

Feeling confident in his next move, landed a blow to York's collarbone, effectively knocking the wind out of the younger man and seasoned agent. Shoving him into the wall he held a hand on York's shoulder as he coughed and wheezed.

"Listen to me you little shit," Gabriel said darkly, "I've been back and forth across these stars a lot longer than you've been alive. I was beating bastards like you at war before you were even a thought in your daddy's balls. I've done and seen things that would make a little stain like you piss their pants. You have anything else you want to say about me that's fine, but you mention one more thing about my child and I swear I will show you what _real_ pain feels like."

Gabriel shoved himself away from the young man, who only stared at the captain in shock. He had taken him by surprise. Gabriel got the sense York wasn't used to that. But he felt like... he felt like he had put an old jacket on. He felt familiar. Things seemed to focus more.

The turbolift doors slid open and he stormed out, not caring if York followed him or not. Entering sickbay he was shown to Michael's small room. She lay there, staring at the ceiling while a nurse busied about.

"Gabriel." Michael said, sitting up. He took her hand and kissed her forehead.

"Am I late?" He asked with a smile, she only stared at him. If he had felt familiar to himself then he visibly _looked_ familiar to Michael now.

"I'm sorry," she said finding her voice again. "I'm sorry I said those things. I realize now it doesn't matter-"

"Shh... it's ok, sweetheart." He said gently, squeezing her hand.

"I'm scared." She admitted, her eyes darting about, hoping no one had heard her.

"Me too." He confided.

The doctor entered, a slim woman with a red ponytail.

"Commander Burnham, the nurses have you prepped, we're just waiting for you dilate a few more centimeters." The doctor informed her, holding a tablet in her hand that took Michael's vitals. "How do you feel?"

Michael squinted.

"Like I'm both trying and not trying to push a human being out of my vagina." She answered curtly. The doctor snorted.

"Best and most honest answer I've had all day." The doctor replied.

"I'm worried about her weight and she's a month early," Michael said, her tone changing, her hand resting over her bump.

"It's perfectly normal, Michael," the doctor assured her. "What we want to look at is her heart, lungs, brain. I promise your baby is going to be fine."

Michael swallowed, wanting to believe the doctor but her imagination couldn't stop picturing everything that could go wrong. Gabriel noticed this.

"Hey," he said, taking her attention away from the monitors of her baby's heart. "I remembered something this morning. The day we met."

Michael smiled and a tear slipped from her eye.

"Are you just saying that?" She asked and he saw her face contort with another contraction.

 _Keep her mind off the pain,_ he reminded himself.

"No, no, I promise, I remembered. I tried not to let you see how intimidated I was."

Michael laughed but it was pained.

"You? Intimidated?"

"God yes. You walked into my ready room like you owned the place."

The doctor swiveled over, Michael's legs adjusted in the stirrups.

"Almost there, Michael," the doctor said scooting over in her stool, a white mask over her face, a nurse at the ready.

"I thought you were so- **ah-** arrogant." She said.

"Michael, I don't mean to interrupt but you need to focus on your breathing."

Nodding she began taking deep breaths.

"That's it, breathe through the pain, you can start pushing now. You'll know how, I promise. That it's. Just like in your classes."

Gabriel watched, he felt, he felt a balloon swell in his chest. He wasn't sure if any of this was normal or going completely one hundred percent according to plan. He knew he had never been present for a human birth, a horse perhaps...

"Breathe, good job, Michael," the doctor coached. She was good at her job, he liked her.

Michael clenched hard on his hand and he had never seen someone be so strong and so brave before.

"Push, push again."

Michael gasped and gathered herself.

"It hurts." She looked at Gabriel and he felt a tear trickle down his cheek. He moved as close as he was able to her from where he sat until their foreheads pressed together. He felt her breathing hard against his face, her sweat at her brow.

"I see the head!" The doctor exclaimed. "You're almost there, Michael. Give me one more big push, deep breath and push."

Gabriel felt Michael inhale deeply, he looked into her eyes and she gazed back, and in that moment... he saw everything. He saw the universe in her eyes, the first time he kissed her, the first time he _wanted_ to kiss her... he saw the _other_ place, he saw his feelings in the moments where he wanted to tell her how he felt.

Gabriel saw his and their life together materialized in her dark orbs. The only thing that took him from the moment was the sound of his daughter crying. And then everything stopped being about them and became about _her_.

"A healthy baby girl, ten fingers ten toes." The doctor said warmly. "Dad, want to cut the cord?"

In the woman's gloved hands was his child, being wiped and warmed.

Gabriel, in his daze, dumbly turned to the doctor. The doctor held his daughter in her hands, she was red and purple and her eyes were closed in a taught squint but she cried all the same.

"Come on, don't be shy," the doctor told him gently. With shaking hands, he was forced to steady, he cut the cord. When it was done she was dried off, warmed further and brought to Michael's arms. They both looked beautiful to him. The baby wasn't fair, she looked like her mother, her hair dark. She hadn't opened her eyes yet, she still whimpered and cried.

Michael immediately laid her on her chest and soothed her with her voice and her heartbeat. Soon, the baby calmed, gripping Michael's flesh in her tiny hands.

Gabriel helped give Michael and the baby a bath, the water shallow. He had never seen her so natural before. She looked like the goddess Artemis in the wood, the Celestial Woman of his dreams incarnate.

She looked like Venus, Mona Lisa, Flaming June... there was no shame in the way she smiled at her child, swollen and sore from childbirth but abundantly happy all the same. There was no pain he could see on her face, only marvel.

The child was faultless to them, and her eyes... they were of her father's like. Endlessly blue, the cosmos dancing in them.

Looking at him, bare and private with only himself and their child, she stared.

"We did this." She said almost in disbelief. He placed a hand on her wet and naked back.

"We did."

Lying together in the bed with the child between them he _remembered_ when she had been injured and they had slept like this. But this was different. This was new life. This was genesis for both of them.

"Have you thought of a name?" He asked her and she shook her head.

"I thought I would know when we met but..." she shrugged. He cleared his throat.

"I... might have one."

Michael sighed.

" _Not_ Hollis." She reaffirmed her position on that. He chuckled.

"No. The Betazoid people have a word, it's personal and special and..." he seemed unsure.

"What is it?" She asked, her curiosity peaked.

"Imzadi. It means beloved."

Michael said the name a few times, looking down at her daughter.

" _Imzadi_ , no boys until your eighteen. _Imzadi_ , do your homework. _Imzadi_ , stop picking on your dad, he's old." They laughed together. "Imzadi," she pressed her lips to her baby's soft little head. "You are _**so**_ loved."

"You like it?" He asked and she nodded. His chest swelled even further.

"Imzadi Philippa Lorca."

Michael rested, slept well, and when she woke her daughter was wide awake. Gabriel had rolled onto his back at some point, still sleeping deeply. Lifting herself from the bed, the painkillers the nurses had administered eased her walk. She cradled Imzadi, bringing her to the viewing window.

"It's a great wide, wonderful universe out there," she said quietly to the baby. "It's frightening and beautiful all at once. Sometimes you can't keep up with how fast it moves. But it's for you, Imzadi. It will always be there for you, waiting."

Michael and Gabriel rarely left his quarters, choosing instead to disconnect themselves from everything that surrounded them, instead cultivating their small family unit.

Watching Imzadi gaze at them through her blue eyes, Michael traced little circles on her chubby cheek while Gabriel marveled at how strong his daughter was gripping his finger in her small fist.

"Let's have another one," he said, only half joking.

Michael gave him a contented but narrow grin.

"Let's wait until this one can at least say 'mama'." Imzadi hiccupped and it caused a swell of pride to balloon inside her at something so insignificant.

Michael realized that when you became a parent everything your child did was a miracle; no other child had ever come close to her own, no one had ever had such a brilliant baby. The cliches surrounding newborns were true, everything they did was adorable and no matter how many billions of babies had already been born yours was singularly better than all the rest.

Michael had experienced what unconditional love for another person had felt like; but this was immensely different. Gabriel completed her in every way but Imzadi gave her something else: she made Michael strive to be better.

Seeing Gabriel cradle their child close to his chest and gently rock her when she cried throughout the night never ceased to amaze Michael. When they had first met she could have never pictured him doing such a thing. With his memory returning their new found familial bliss was even stronger than it would have been if it hadn't come back to him.

Michael found herself thinking, imagining and wishing for things she never had given any credence to before. She imagined their future in different ways now. With Imzadi nestled between them as their anchor to their new life together.

Imzadi reminded Michael that the time for recklessness, selfishness and self importance was over. Nothing seemed more fruitful to her than to be a mother. And yet... the stars called to her.

And there was the ever present shadow looming over them, it surrounded them at every turn: Section 31.

It was the elephant in the room, the fly in the ointment. It would need to be acknowledged eventually.

But not now.

Michael felt recovered and Imzadi was proving to be a very restful child, choosing sleep now over all other things, except formula of course. The first few weeks had been filled with sleepless nights but soon she slept peacefully and happily. It worried Michael at first, shouldn't babies never stop screaming?

Her research on the matter proved unhelpful. Every baby was different. Some never sleep through the night until they're older, others take to it right away. At first Imzadi hadn't wanted to breast feed, it had been a struggle Michael felt like she was losing until Gabriel reminded her it was just another challenge. She persisted and soon her daughter suckled at her breast.

Her body had changed. Her breasts felt heavier but not as sore from milk, but Imzadi's feeding time reminded her that she wasn't out of the woods yet as far as the pain to her nipples went.

But her stomach had returned to normal and she exercised regularly to remain in good health and shape. Carrying Imzadi to and fro proved to be its own workout as her child's weight increased daily.

On her first checkup after birth, the doctor commented that she was a perfectly healthy weight but expect her to most likely be very tall, a gene from Michael's own biological father.

Michael thought it was a little too ambitious for a doctor to gamble on such things as height. But already her daughter seemed to be growing out of her newborn clothes right away.

The old earth saying, "they grow up so fast" had never seemed more true to Michael before.

It was a night where Imzadi seemed to be sleeping through out, Michael and Gabriel stayed up to talk on the sofa. The small living room was located near both bedrooms, open concept allowed for a kitchenette adjacent.

Michael briefly had an image of sneaking out of bed one night and seeing her own parents in such a way; shrouded in the warm glow of a film or nightlight.

"Fatherhood suits you," she said, they had barely spoken for a time, instead only enjoying the silence and the company.

"Never thought I'd live long enough to do it or at all." He admitted. "How's motherhood?"

"Personally, I never thought I'd have children. But now that I do have one of my own I feel... it's difficult to describe. I love her in ways I didn't know I was capable of."

Gabriel took her hand and kissed her knuckles, she melted into his touch. There had still been little to no intimate contact. Michael was surprised when she found her libido hadn't diminished from having a child. In fact, she felt extremely confident. It didn't exactly make her feel sexier, but she once again felt an empowerment. A primal fire had once more been lit.

"I spoke to Doctor Floyd yesterday," she said, curling into his arms.

"Hmm."

"I asked her to prescribe a birth control."

She felt him stiffen, then relax, then his hand slid from her hip to her waist.

"Really?" He asked, she nodded.

"That is... if you still want me?"

His answer was straight forward: he pressed his open mouth to hers, gripping her chin between his thumb and index finger. She responded in time to him, opening her mouth and bringing her tongue to duel with his. The primordial fire grew, blazing out of control.

Gabriel hoisted her onto his lap, tearing off her t-shirt but being careful to her breasts, kissing the swell of them and massaging each with gentleness while his mouth roughly claimed her own.

"I've missed you," she whispered as he mouthed her throat, slithering his tongue along her pulse.

He groaned as she moved her core against his stiffening length, confined nontogently within his trousers.

The broke apart, only staring at one another. Imzadi cried and Michael sighed deeply, moving to stand but he stopped her.

"Wait." The crying continued for a moment until it faded. He breathed out, relieved.

Michael removed his shirt, but he stopped her when it was gone, clutching her wrists. For a moment she feared he was putting an end to it.

"Now, Burnham, I think you're getting ahead of yourself." He said, in an all too familiar tone that swept through her body like an electric jolt, planting itself between her hips and causing a shiver to run through her.

Still holding her wrists he began to rise, forcing her to stand as well on uneven feet. Wrapping an arm around her naked waist, he pinned her arms between their bodies, while his free hand moved under her slip, her legs seperating to make room for him. Her hands pressed into his chest, her nails biting him, his mouth attacking the junction of skin between her neck and shoulder.

Whimpering, she bit her lip.

"Please," she begged warmly against his chest. His hand found it's target, making sure to drag his fingertips along her wet opening. He grunted hard when she sank her teeth into the area just below his collarbone.

"Fuck, you little monster," he said heavily, roughly moving her panties aside to feel her wetness and allowing it to coat his fingers before thrusting a single finger inside of her.

Michael's knees nearly buckled but he kept her upright as she sagged against him.

"I remember," he whispered in her ear, stirring another liquid fire inside of her. "I remember every time I took you. The first, the last, **every..**. _Single_. _**Time**_." His words were punctuated with his thrusts. Planned.

"Gabriel..."

"Let it out, sweetheart," he coached, taking her earlobe between his teeth.

Michael's hips moved on their own accord, meeting the thrust of his hand, his palm rubbing perfectly blunt circles over her clit. She was finally able to get her hands mobile, grasping his wide shoulders and bringing her mouth to his ardently.

"Michael." He grunted, she tried to keep her eyes open to remain locked in combat with his own but she couldn't. Eventually they clenched shut and she shuddered against him, hooking her arms around him to keep herself on her feet.

"Ah, oh..." she whispered against his chest. Gabriel wasted little time, throwing her legs under one arm and scooping her torso with the other he carried her with raw, masculine determination towards the bedroom. She could only watch him with heavy eyes, his own looked straight ahead as he made the short journey from the living room to the bedroom where the light was even dimmer.

It was here where she knew he would lose all propriety he had had before, where he would throw all manner of the gentlemanly behavior he had been bestowing upon her for months. The cord had been cut, the cable had snapped, the sail had been set loose.

The animal had been released from it's rickety cage.

It was here, on a secret starbase, in a family's living quarters, Gabriel Lorca would have his thorough way with her. The thought nearly sent her into a pre-orgasmic bliss.

He laid her more gently on the bed than she thought, but she saw how he struggled. He removed the remaining clothing he had on and joined her, tearing off her underwear; a flashback of their first night toward scuttled across her memory. He had looked savage then too, hungry even.

That had been the night he had awakened the wanton little sylph inside of her.

Pushing the slip up to her waist he found his natural place between her legs where she pulled him towards her. The same place men had attempted to beguile their way into before, and she had turned them all away.

All except _him_. Like she had been waiting for him all that time. She had never been a sentimental price tag on her virginity, it was an outdated symbol of femininity. And yet it had felt special that it had been him and no one else and no one since. Michael could imagine bedding someone else but it felt wrong every time. She could daydream about what it could have been like to throw caution to the wind and given into her physical desire for Agent York.

But she hadn't, because it wouldn't have been right and it wouldn't have been true. Despite herself, despite her upbringing, Michael knew she would always need that emotional anchor when it came to making love.

And Gabriel gave that to her in more ways than one.

He still looked wild and unhinged, teasing her lips with his own, his hands making a map of her body. But something in his eyes had gentled, he was prolonging it... and that was very much in character for him. So much so it caused Michael to beg again,

"Please, Gabriel-"

"Shh... just..."

She felt his hands grip the back of her neck, cupping her to his collarbone as he pushed his hips into her cradle. She held tight to his shoulders as the blunt head of his cock found it's natural place inside of her. Squeezing him, pulling him in with each little press.

Moaning sharply but not in pain, it increased his vigor. The gentleness in his eyes faded, darkened and she felt her stomach twinge and her cunt flex around him.

Thrusting the rest of the way into her they both groaned in unison as they became one, fully.

 _God bless this man,_ she thought madly.

He took her like a wild man, like a savage. She felt a little pain, needing to grow accustomed to his length and the power he wielded behind it. She felt the bruising force at her hip where he held her firmly into the bed. Taking and devouring every last piece of herself she willing to give.

And Michael knew she would only keep on giving to him, until there was nothing left of herself.

She would let him make and unmake her over and over again, because she knew he would let her do the same for him.

He brazingly scattered kisses across her neck, cupping her breast gently but with purpose. It wasn't ownership, it was allowance she was giving him. That he knew he was the only man who had ever touched her in such a way emboldened him beyond all belief. That he was fortunate enough that she had chosen him of all people.

It strengthened him and gave him purpose. She wanted him, desired him and loved him despite everything in the chemistry and history that said she shouldn't have.

Gabriel knew he had never loved anyone like Michael before. He planned to never love anyone like that ever again, it was only _her_.

As he panted above her, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist, fastening herself to him, he whispered a single word,

"Celestial..."

Michael couldn't comprehend at the moment what he meant, for she found herself flying higher and higher to her peak. He sensed this and stopped. Groaning she slapped a sweat hand into his chest, digging her nails into his flesh.

"I've a lot to make up for," he said with a grin, catching his breath. "You do too."

Gabriel kissed along her neck as he spoke, she whimpered softly in his ear.

"You're... you're being cruel." She whined and he shook his head.

"All's fair in love and war."

" _We're_ not at war."

Gabriel released himself from her body and she grumbled something he couldn't understand. He turned her over onto her hands and knees, remembering quite fondly how much she enjoyed this position. And in fact, it caused another gush of wetness to flood her cunt.

Tenderly wrapping an arm around her waist he kissed the nape of her neck and she slid her hands into his, their fingers intertwining.

"Tell me how you want it, Burnham." He said darkly into her ear, yet his touch remained gentle.

"Captain..."

"How do you want it, sweetheart?"

Shaking her head madly she said, "I don't care... I just want you."

"I need _specifics_ ," he said, reminding her of their affair on Starbase 36. "Don't be afraid to be graphic."

Michael blushed and she sighed. He had always loved her shyness coupled with graphic detail of how she wanted him to fuck her.

"I..."

"Yes?"

"I... need your cock. I need you to... fuck me, hard."

Michael waited as he rubbed the tip of his cock along her slit.

"Alright."

Gabriel resumed his ferocious storming of her body, inclining her torso forward but going with her. Michael feared they would wake Imzadi, but if the child showed anymore signs of her slumber being interrupted she wasn't showing it. She was thankful for that, for at this moment she couldn't bare the thought of stopping.

It was painful but fulfilling. It was fierce and also gentle. It was maddening and yet it brought the utmost clarity. Michael had once seen a feeding frenzy of endangered great white sharks, their eyes black and their movements sharp, terrifying and merciless. Gabriel had a distinctly similar look in his eye. But it didn't bring her fear, it only brought her to her bittersweet and rapturous completion.

Michael didn't have the sense to recall what happened after she came. She assumed he quickly followed her, but when she woke she was rinsed and warm under the blankets.

Blinking through heavy eyelids she saw an image come into focus, clear as day. Gabriel soothing Imzadi. But this wasn't where their home should be. He fathered her beautifully, proudly and without complaint. When their daughter fussed he gently calmed her.

They couldn't raise their child while living double lives. It would destroy them. No, Michael knew if they were to truly live and be happy... they must be beholden to none.

 **AN: I hope you enjoyed the update! Thank you for your encouraging reviews as always : ) I feel the story winding down. I doubt I'll have it finished by Sunday but fingers crossed lol**


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